He seemed miles
away from her, separated by some imponderable yet impassable barrier.
The first time her gaze had rested on him at the charity ball she had
thought impetuously, "Any girl could fall in love with a man like that!"
and she had carelessly asked his name of the assiduous Gershom, who
appeared to her to exist in innumerable reflections of himself. The next
day when she had seen Stephen approaching her in the Square, she had
obeyed the same erratic impulse, half in jest and half from the
gambler's instinct to grasp at reluctant opportunity. After all, had not
experience taught her that one must venture in order to win, that
nothing came to those who dared not stake the whole of life on the next
turn of fortune? She had been startled out of her composure by the sight
of Stephen at the dinner; and yet she had not been conscious of any
particular wish to see him again, or to sit at his side through two
hours of embarrassment and uncertainty. Now, on the way home, she was
suffering acutely from the burden of failure, from the smarting
realization of her own ignorance and awkwardness.
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