And about the certainty of her belief in his coming.

And the tiny foot which grew numb.

And the slow lump climbing in her throat.

And the rush under the shrubs--and the beating hands--and cries--and of the rose dress and socks and crushed hat covered with mud.
She had not been piteous or dramatic.

She had been so simple that she had broken his heart in two and he had actually hidden his face in her hair.
"Oh! Donal, dear.