I take off my hat and go down on my knees when I think of her.

Go and put _your_ hat on." She felt herself diminished, humbled, and in two ways.

It was as if he had said: "You are not the saint that Edith is, nor yet the connoisseur in saintship that I am." She knew that she was not the one; but to the other distinction she certainly fancied that she had the superior claim.

And she had never yet come behind him in appreciation of Edith.

Besides, she was hurt at being spoken to in that way on her birthday.
Her resentment faded when she found him standing at the foot of the stairs by Edith's door, waiting for her.