ivility.

As for Sidney himself, it was not without reason that he had seen
encouragement in the girl's first reply to his advances. At sixteen,
Clara found it agreeable to have her good graces sought by the one man
in whom she recognised superiority of mind and purpose. Of all the
unbetrothed girls she knew not one but would have felt flattered had
Kirkwood thus distinguished her. Nothing common adhered to his
demeanour, to his character; he had the look of one who will hold his
own in life; his word had the ring of truth. Of his generosity she had
innumerable proofs, and it contrasted nobly with the selfishness of
young men as she knew them; she appreciated it all the more because her
own frequent desire to be unselfish was so fruitless. Of awakening
tenderness towards him she knew nothing, but she gave him smiles and
words which might mean little or much, just for the pleasure of
completing a conquest. Nor did she, in truth, then regard it as
impossible that, sooner or later, she might become his wife. If she
_must_ marry a workman, assuredly it should be Sidney. He thought so
highly of her, he understood things in her to which the ordinary
artisan would have been dead; he had little delicacies of homage which
gave her keen pleasure. And yet--well, time enough!

Time went very quickly, and changed both herself and Sidney in ways she
could not foresee. It was true, all he said to her in anger that night
by the prison wall--true and deserved every word of it. Even in
acknowledging that, she hardened herself against him implacably. Since
he chose to take this tone with her, to throw aside all his graceful
blindness to her faults, he had only himself to blame if she considered
everything at an end between them. She tried to believe herself glad
this had happened; it relieved her from an embarrassment, and made her
absolutely free to pursue the ambitions which now gave her no rest. For
all that, she could not dismiss Sidney from her mind; indeed,
throughout the week that followed their parting, she thought of him
more persistently than for many months. That he would before long seek
pardon for his rudeness she felt certain, she felt also that such
submission would gratify her in a high degree. But the weeks were
passing and no letter came; in vain she glanced from the window of the
bar at the faces which moved by. Even on Sunday, when she went home for
an hour or two, she neither saw nor heard of Kirkwood. She could not