Lucina, her body bent aloof with an indescribable poise of delicacy and the impulse of flight, yet looked at her sleeping lover until her whole heart seemed to feed itself through her eyes.
Lucina had not seen him for more than six weeks, except by sly glimpses at meeting and on the road.

She thought, pitifully, that he had grown thin; she noticed what a sad droop his mouth had at the corners.

She pitied, loved, and feared him, with all the trifold power of her feminine heart.
As she looked at him, her remembrance of old days so deepened and intensified that they seemed to close upon the present and the future.

Love, even when it has apparently no past, is at once a memory and a revelation.

Lucina saw the little lover of her innocent childish dreams asleep there, she saw the poor boy who had gone hungry and barefoot, she saw the young man familiar in the strangeness of the future.