And it lasted--recurred, at least, whenever they were
together--almost unaltered, for two whole days.
It was his manner, she felt sure, that had created it; and yet, so
prompt and automatic had been her response that she couldn't be sure,
not for the first half-hour or so, anyway, that he wasn't attributing it
to her. It wasn't so much the first words he said, when, opening her
door, she saw him standing in the hallway, as it was his attitude; his
rather formal attitude; the way he held his hat; the fact--this was
absurd, of course, but she reconstructed the memory very clearly
afterward--that his clothes were freshly pressed. It was the slightly
anxious, very determined attitude of an estimable and rather shy young
man making his first call on a young lady, on whom he is desperately
desirous of making a favorable impression.
What he said was something not very coherent about being very glad and
its being very good of her, and almost simultaneously she gasped out
that she was glad, and wouldn't he come in.
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