“What made you think” he said, abruptly, with the gleam of avidity in his face, “that love makes people happy?” “I know it must. He renewed his supplications to Sharples, but with no better success than heretofore; and the greater part of the night was passed by him and the poor widow, whose anxiety, if possible, exceeded his own, in the most miserable state imaginable. Their heads touched again, their arms tightened. Two of these had been her particular intimates at the High School, and had done much to send her mind exploring beyond the limits of the available literature at home. I do—with all my heart. She occupied a small sofa, a little apart, a ruddy-complexioned gentleman some years her senior beside her, and glanced about with an air of considerable unease. ‘And this is not all,’ went on the lady, evidently determined to disclose all her wrongs. They were alike in one phase—loveless and lonely. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. “And so you have been thinking?” her father began, quoting her letter and looking over his slanting glasses at her. She knew that the next time he caught her she would not be able to free herself. Later, she understood his reasons; and it had now become habit.
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