How did she know that he cared for her? She could not possibly have
told. Perhaps the nearest to actual proof she could bring was that
he always saw that her overshoes were put in a warm place. And when
one came down to facts, the putting of a girl's rubbers near the
radiator did not necessarily mean love.

Perhaps then it was because there was no proof of it that she was
most sure. For some of the most sure things in the world are things
which cannot be proved.

It was only that they worked together and were friends; that they
laughed together over funny definitions they found, that he was kind
to her, and that they seemed remarkably close together.

That is as far as facts can take it.

And just there--it begins.

For the force which rushes beneath the facts of life, caring nothing
for conditions, not asking what one desires or what one thinks best,
caring as little about a past as about a future--save its own
future--the force which can laugh at man's institutions and batter
over in one sweep what he likes to call his wisdom, was sweeping
them on. And because it could get no other recognition it forced its
way into the moments when he asked her for an eraser, when she
wanted to know how to spell a word. He could not so much as ask her
if she needed more copy-paper without seeming to be lavishing upon
her all the love of all the ages.