She, on her side, found all her distaste of him suddenly vanished in the mere solemnity of the occasion.

His very quietness told her better than any protestations could have done of the quality of what he offered, and that quality vastly transcended all that she had known or guessed of him.
"I don't know, Michael," she said at length.
She came a step forward, and without any sense of embarrassment found that she, without conscious intention, had put her hands on his shoulders.

The moment that was done she was conscious of the impulse that made her do it.

It expressed what she felt.
"Yes, I feel like that to you," she said.

"You're a dear.