He was afraid to speak to her, for he knew that her mind was dwelling on this chance forbidden meeting in a way quite different from his own.
Approaching Hyde Park Corner, where Ferrand was still standing against the rails, Shelton, who had forgotten his existence, suffered a shock when his eyes fell suddenly on that impassive figure.

He was about to raise his hand, when he saw that the young foreigner, noting his instinctive feeling, had at once adapted himself to it.

They passed again without a greeting, unless that swift inquisition; followed by unconsciousness in Ferrand's eyes, could so be called.

But the feeling of idiotic happiness left Shelton; he grew irritated at this silence.
It tantalised him more and more, for Bill Dennant had lagged behind to chatter to a friend; Shelton and Antonia were alone, walking their horses, without a word, not even looking at each other.

At one moment he thought of galloping ahead and leaving her, then of breaking the vow of muteness she seemed to be imposing on him, and he kept thinking: "It ought to be either one thing or the other.