She did not confess it even to herself; nevertheless she knew that she worked, ate, slept, to live until Justin's luck turned.
Her love had lain in her heart a bird without a song, year after year.
Her mother had dwelt by her side and never guessed; her father too; and both were dead.

The neighbours also, lynx-eyed and curious, had never suspected.

If she had suffered, no one in Edgewood was any the wiser, for the maiden heart is not commonly worn on the sleeve in New England.
If she had been openly pledged to Justin Peabody, she could have waited twice ten years with a decent show of self-respect, for long engagements were viewed rather as a matter of course in that neighbourhood.

The endless months had gone on since that grey November day when Justin had said good-bye.

It had been just before Thanksgiving, and she went to church with an aching and ungrateful heart.