It wasn't exactly a swagger but she didn't really care that it wasn't. What did it matter how even his stride was? The state of his gait was of little consequence to her, what really mattered was how he felt about her and how handsome his face was. Was he aware of how distinguished he looked with his angular cheekbones? Few men could boast of such cheekbones, indeed few women could either. She was vaguely aware that she had once thought him vaguely attractive and now thought her past self a blind idiot. How could she not have recognized true beauty when it looked right at her?

"Good evening, Mr. Crouch." The greeting continued in her mind in a direction altogether unsuitable for the time, place, and company. She said no more but gazed at him with a knowing intensity. She dared him to compliment her, to say something to affirm her belief that he felt the same way.

---