In all the many moods which the gods allow to good women there is none so dear or so alluring, consciously as well as instinctively, to true men as this self-surrender.

As Leonard drew near, Stephen sank softly into a seat, doing so with a guilty feeling of acting a part.

When he actually came into the grove he found her seemingly lost in a reverie as she gazed out over the wide expanse in front of her.

He was hot after his walk, and with something very like petulance threw himself into a cane armchair, exclaiming as he did so with the easy insolence of old familiarity: 'What a girl you are, Stephen! dragging a fellow all the way up here.
Couldn't you have fixed it down below somewhere if you wanted to see me ?' Strangely enough, as it seemed to her, Stephen did not dislike his tone of mastery.

There was something in it which satisfied her.