Explore "Love" by Elizabeth Von Arnim on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Till the following Friday his week was harassed. It was wonderful to be in love, to have found her, but it would have been still more wonderful if he had known a little more about her. He wanted to be able to think of her and follow her through each minute of the day, -- picture her, see her in his mind's eye doing this and doing that, going here and going there; and there was nothing but a blank.
They were such strangers. Only, of course, strangers on the lower level of everyday circumstances. On the higher level, the starry level of splendid, unreasoning love, he had, as he told her, always known her. But to know her on that level and not on any other was awkward. It cut him off so completely. He couldn't think what to do next.