The Dark Flower by John Galsworthy — Read

Then followed for young Lennan a strange time, when he never knew from minute to minute whether he was happy-always trying to be with her, restless if he could not be, sore if she talked with and smiled at others; yet, when he was with her, restless too, unsatisfied, suffering from his own timidity.

One wet morning, when she was playing the hotel piano, and he listening, thinking to have her to himself, there came a young German violinist-pale, and with a brown, thin-waisted coat, longish hair, and little whiskers-rather a beast, in fact. Soon, of course, this young beast was asking her to accompany him-as if anyone wanted to hear him play his disgusting violin! Every word and smile that she gave him hurt so, seeing how much more interesting than himself this foreigner was! And his heart grew heavier and heavier, and he thought: If she likes him I ought not to mind-only, I DO mind! How can I help minding? It was hateful to see her smiling, and the young beast bending down to her. And they were talking German, so that he could not tell what they were saying, which made it more unbearable. He had not known there could be such torture.