She had once or twice, when it was evident that he did not know that she was watching him, seen something creep into his eyes when he glanced in her direction.

He was, however, for the most part, almost unduly cautious in his conversation, and she now and then wondered whether his reticence cost him anything.
"It's a pity it isn't always summer afternoon," she said.
Weston looked at her rather curiously, though for the next few moments his lips remained set.

There was a good deal he could have said in that connection, but he suppressed it, as he had done more than once already when similarly tempted.

He felt that if he once allowed his sentiments audible expression they might run away with him.
"Oh, yes," he said, "I suppose it is." Ida wondered whether he was quite insensible to temptation, or absurdly diffident, for she had now given him two openings, and he had answered with only the tritest of remarks.

She knew he was not stupid, but there were times when, for no apparent reason, he seemed suddenly to retire into his shell.