Explore "Love" by Elizabeth Von Arnim on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The noise, the shaking, the wind, made it impossible to say much. Perhaps up there above her on his perch he really didn't hear; he anyhow behaved as if he didn't. Getting no answer to any of the things she said, she looked up at him. He was intent, bent forward, his mouth tight shut, and his hair -- he had nothing on his head -- blown backwards, shining in the sun.
The anger died from her face. It was so absurd, what was happening to her, that she couldn't be angry. All the trouble she had taken to get away from him, all she had endured and made Stephen and Virginia endure that week as a result of it, ending like this, in being caught and carried off in a side-car! Besides, there was something about him sitting up there in the sun, something in his expression, at once triumphant and troubled, determined and anxious, happy and scared, that brought a smile flickering round the corners of her mouth, which, however, she carefully buried in her scarf.