Ellen's first impulse, when she really began to love Robert Lloyd, was not yielding, but flight; her first sensation, not happiness, but shame.

When he left her that night she realized, to her unspeakable dismay and anger, that he had not left her, that he would never in her whole life, or at least it seemed so, leave her again.

Everywhere she looked she saw his face projected by her memory before her with all the reality of life.

His face came between her and her mother's and father's, it came between her and her thoughts of other faces.

When she was alone in her chamber, there was the face.