Next the gap remained a girl in a blazer collar up as though she expected the skies to fall, gold hair bent outward over the collar. She seemed, too, in the act of turning away, of indeed fleeing, but had not yet done so. She wore the air of someone who cannot help knowing she must be recognized, her not yet willing but lovely gaze rested, accordingly, upon nothing; or rather upon a point in the diminishing nothingness between him and her.
He swerved nearer the rail, crying 'Hullo!' to somebody behing her. There was, as she knew, no one. Their eyes met.
They no sooner looked but they loved.
A World of Love, Elizabeth Bowen
