He measured time by the intervals that
elapsed between his visions of her. No period in his life was so
wretched and utterly purposeless as those two years which passed while
she was at her Training College. He was a very passive lover, as yet his
gathering passion did not urge him to extremes, and he could never make
up his mind to declare it. The box was in his hand, but he feared to
throw the dice.
But he drew as near to her as he dared. Once he gave Beatrice a flower,
it was when she was seventeen, and awkwardly expressed a hope that she
would wear it for his sake. The words were not much and the flower was
not much, but there was a look about the man's eyes, and a suppressed
passion and energy in his voice, which told their tale to the
keen-witted girl. After this he found that she avoided him, and bitterly
regretted his boldness. For Beatrice did not like him in that way. To
a girl of her curious stamp his wealth was nothing. She did not covet
wealth, she coveted independence, and had the sense to know that
marriage with such a man would not bring it. A cage is a cage, whether
the bars are of iron or gold.
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