But presently he went on to reading the inside part of the paper, and then one day he opened up the financial page and folded the paper right back and leant it against the sugar-bowl.
I could not but wonder whether John's love for me was what it had been.
Was it cooling?
I asked myself.

And what was cooling it?
It hardly seemed possible, when I looked back to the wild passion with which he had proposed to me on the garden bench, that John's love was waning.

But I kept noticing different little things.

One day in the spring-time I saw John getting out a lot of fishing tackle from a box and fitting it together.

I asked him what he was going to do, and he said that he was going to fish.