The day was pleasantly filled, but not too full for the elaboration of these arguments. They soothed him; he grew philosophic; he discussed the conditions of love with himself; he even broached the problem in an abstract way over his coffee at the club. For the first time he thought that he had clearly determined the nature of his affection for Letty. It was integral and single, it was built upon a pack of sentiments, it was very tender, and it would wear extremely well; but it was not that first high passion which he had once supposed. The unfamiliarity of that earlier exaltation had deceived him into a false definition of Love. There was none such in circulation among human bodies. There were degrees upon degrees of affection, and Letty and he stood very high in rank; but to conceive of their love as something emanating from a superior sphere outside relation to the world and other human beings was the absurd and delightful flight of heedless passion.
He had laid his ghost, and came home to his dinner in an excellent humour. The girl looked forlorn and weary, but brightened a good deal on his return. With her for audience he chattered in quite a sparkling temper. Letty said little, but regarded him often with great shy eyes. He looked up some times to find them upon him with a wistful, even a pleading, gaze. She watched every movement he took jealously. But she was obviously content, and even gay in a sad little fashion. He did not understand, but his spirits were too newly blythe to dwell upon a puzzle. He noticed with scarce a wonder little starts of pettishness which he had never seen before. They flashed and were gone, and the large eyes still followed him with tenderness. She rested her arm across the table in the middle of a story he was telling, and rearranged his silver.
"You must not cross your knives," she said playfully." That's a bad omen." He laughed and continued his narrative.
