He said nothing. He hung round those broad waters from noon until three and realized that he had embarked upon a wild-goose chase. “I suppose most people’s letters are queer. Little things, almost impalpable, had happened to justify that doubt; something in his manner had belied his words. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. I do not think that I have the Bohemian spirit at all. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it.
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