She smiled encouragingly, laying aside her plate and turning her chair from the table. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. And at the thought of that other lover—he was convinced that that beloved person was a lover, and she found herself unable to say a word to explain to him that this other person, the person she loved, did not even know of her love—Ramage grew angry and savage once more, and returned suddenly to gibe and insult. She spoke with many other high schoolers while reveling in her new popularity. You did not see me, I know.
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