The wind blew a little cold.
"It is the capriciousness of April," said Mary, unconscious of any change in the mental atmosphere.
He stopped on the downhill path, took her cloak from her arm, and with kind carefulness laid it about her shoulders.

As he arranged it he touched one of the soft curls that lay on her white neck, and again a thrill passed through him.

He began to wish that he had not planned this country expedition, after all.

He ought really to have started this morning for the Continent.

Going on Saturday, he would have very little time to stay.
On the homeward way Mrs.Morres reproached him with his dulness.