romance being, perhaps, based on science--that Edith's appearance
corresponded in every particular with an ideal that had grown up with
him. Whether he had seen some picture as a child that had left a vague
and lasting impression, or whatever the reason was, the moment he saw
her he felt, with a curious mental sensation, as of something that fell
into its place with a click ('Ça y est!'), that she realised some
half-forgotten dream. In fact, it was a rare and genuine case of _coup
de foudre_. Had she been a girl he would have proposed to her the next
day, and they might quite possibly have married in a month, and lived
happily ever after. These things occasionally happen. But she was
married already.

Had she been a fool, or a bore, a silly little idiot or a fisher of
men, a social sham who prattled of duchesses or a strenuous feminine
politician who babbled of votes; a Christian Scientist bent on
converting, an adventuress without adventures (the worst kind), a
mind-healer or a body-snatcher, a hockey-player or even a lady
novelist, it would have been exactly the same; whatever she had been,
mentally or morally, he would undoubtedly have fallen in love with her
physically, at first sight. But it was very much worse than that. He
found her delightful, and clever; he was certain she was an angel. She
was married to Ottley. Ottley was all right.... Rather an ass ...
rather ridiculous; apparently in every way but one.

* * * * *

So absurdly hard hit was Aylmer that it seemed to him as if to see her
again as soon as possible was already the sole object in his life. Did
she like him? Intuitively he felt that during his little visit his
intense feeling had radiated, and not displeased--perhaps a little