But Clement was above jealousy; and, if he perceived anything of this movement, took no notice of it.
He saw a good deal of his pretty Susan that day.

She was tender in her expressions and manners as usual, but there was a little something in her looks and language from time to time that Clement did not know exactly what to make of.

She colored once or twice when the young poet's name was mentioned.

She was not so full of her little plans for the future as she had sometimes been, "everything was so uncertain," she said.

Clement asked himself whether she felt quite as sure that her attachment would last as she once did.