intensity.

"Oh, eyes!" he whispered, softly, in that cool privacy and shelter from
the world. "Oh, eyes of blue!"

The mirror of a dressing-table sent him the reflection of his own eyes,
which also were blue; and he gazed upon them and upon the rest of his
image the while he ate his bread-and-butter and apple sauce and sugar.
Thus, watching himself eat, he continued to stare dreamily at the mirror
until the bread-and-butter and apple sauce and sugar had disappeared,
whereupon he rose and approached the dressing-table to study himself at
greater advantage.

He assumed as repulsive an expression as he could command, at the same
time making the kingly gesture of one who repels unwelcome attentions;
and it is beyond doubt that he was thus acting a little scene of
indifference. Other symbolic dramas followed, though an invisible
observer might have been puzzled for a key to some of them. One,
however, would have proved easily intelligible: his expression having
altered to a look of pity and contrition, he turned from the mirror,
and, walking slowly to a chair across the room, used his right hand in
a peculiar manner, seeming to stroke the air at a point about ten inches
above the back of the chair. "There, there, little girl," he said in a
low, gentle voice. "I didn't know you cared!"

Then, with a rather abrupt dismissal of this theme, he returned to the
mirror and, after a questioning scrutiny, nodded solemnly, forming with
his lips the words, "The real thing--the real thing at last!" He
meant that, after many imitations had imposed upon him, Love--the real
thing--had come to him in the end. And as he turned away he murmured,