this?

At least one to marvel over and admire without reserve; to rejoice in
and, if it could not be otherwise, to desire in silence and in pride
that it should be given to one so unworthy the privileges of desiring
and of service and mute adoration....

"It's almost dark," her pleasant accents broke in upon his revery.
"Would you mind lighting the lamp? My hands are all wet and sticky."

"Assuredly."

Whitaker got up, found matches, and lighted a tin kerosene lamp in a
bracket on the wall. The windows darkened and the walls took on a sombre
yellow as the flame grew strong and steady.

"I'm quite finished." The girl scrubbed her arms and hands briskly with
a dry towel and turned down her sleeves, facing him with her fine,
frank, friendly smile. "If you're ready...."

"Whenever you are," he said with an oddly ceremonious bow.

To his surprise she drew back, her brows and lips contracting to level
lines, her eyes informed with the light of wonder shot through with the
flashings of a resentful temper.

"Why do you look at me so?" she demanded sharply. "What are you
thinking...?" She checked, her frown relaxed, her smile flickered
softly. "Am I such a fright--?"

"I beg your pardon," he said hastily. "I was merely thinking,
wondering...."

She seemed about to speak, but said nothing. He did not round out his
apology. A little distance apart, they stood staring at one another in
that weird, unnatural light, wherein the glow from the lamp contended
garishly with the ebbing flush of day. And again he was mute in
bewildered inquiry before that puzzling phenomenon of inscrutable
emotion which once before, since his awakening, had been disclosed to
him in her mantling colour, in the quickening of her breath, and the
agitation of her bosom, in the timid, dumb questioning of eyes grown
strangely shy and frightened.

And then, in a twinkling, an impatient gesture exorcised the
inexplicable mood that had possessed her, and she regained her normal,
self-reliant poise as if by witchcraft.

"What a quaint creature you are, Hugh," she cried, her smile whimsical.
"You've a way of looking at one that gives me the creeps. I see
things--things that aren't so, and never were. If you don't stop it, I
swear I shall think you're the devil! Stop it--do you hear me, sir? And
come build our bonfire."

She swung lithely away and was out of the house before he could regain
his wits and follow.

"I noticed a lot of old lumber around