"But
never mind, you go on as you like, I shall know whom you mean."
But the flame was dead within me. I tried to rekindle it, but
every time I glanced up and met the green eyes of the black Tom it
flickered out again. I recalled the thrill that had penetrated my
whole being when Naomi's hand had accidently touched mine in the
conservatory, and wondered whether she had done it on purpose. I
thought how good and sweet she was to that irritatingly silly old
frump her mother, and wondered if it really were her mother, or
only hired. I pictured her crown of gold-brown hair as I had last
seen it with the sunlight kissing its wanton waves, and felt I
would like to be quite sure that it were all her own.
Once I clutched the flying skirts of my enthusiasm with sufficient
firmness to remark that in my own private opinion a good woman was
more precious than rubies; adding immediately afterwards--the words
escaping me unconsciously before I was aware even of the thought--
"pity it's so difficult to tell 'em."
Then I gave it up, and sat trying to remember what I had said to
her the evening before, and hoping I had not committed myself.
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