Zilda cooked for him, Zilda waited upon him, Zilda conversed with him in the afternoons when he needed amusement.

This month was the period of her happiness.
When he was going home, Gilby felt really very grateful to the girl.

He had not the slightest thought of making love to her; he felt too strongly on the subject of his dignity and his principles for that; but although he haggled with Chaplot over the bill, he talked in a bombastic manner about making Zilda a present.
It did not distress Zilda that he should quarrel with her father's bill; she had no higher idea in character than that each should seek his own in all things; but when Gilby talked of giving her a present she shrank instinctively with an air of offence.

This air of offence was the one betrayal of her affection which he could observe, and he did not gather very much of the truth from it.
'I will give you a watch, Zilda,' he said, 'a gold watch; you will like that.' 'No, monsieur.' Zilda's face was flushed and her head was high in the air.
'I will give you a ring; you would like that--a golden ring.' 'No, monsieur; I would not like it at all.' Gilby retired from the discussion that day feeling some offence and a good deal of consternation.

He thought the best thing would be to have nothing more to do with Zilda; but the next day, in the bustle of his departure, remembering all she had done for him, he relented entirely, and he gave her a kiss.
Afterwards, when the train was at the station, and Chaplot and Zilda had put his bags and his wraps beside him on a cushioned seat, Gilby turned and with great politeness accosted two fine ladies who were travelling in the same carriage and with whom he had a slight acquaintance.