'What made you cry out "O," Charlotte, when Mr.Dare dropped that horrid photograph ?' 'I don't know; I suppose it frightened me,' stammered the girl.
'It was a stupid fuss to make before such a person.

One would think you were in love with Mr.Somerset.' 'What did you say, Paula ?' inquired her uncle, looking up from the newspaper which he had again resumed.
'Nothing, Uncle Abner.' She walked to the window, and, as if to tide over what was plainly passing in their minds about her, she began to make remarks on objects in the street.

'What a quaint being--look, Charlotte!' It was an old woman sitting by a stall on the opposite side of the way, which seemed suddenly to hit Paula's sense of the humorous, though beyond the fact that the dame was old and poor, and wore a white handkerchief over her head, there was really nothing noteworthy about her.
Paula seemed to be more hurt by what the silence of her companions implied--a suspicion that the discovery of Somerset's depravity was wounding her heart--than by the wound itself.

The ostensible ease with which she drew them into a bye conversation had perhaps the defect of proving too much: though her tacit contention that no love was in question was not incredible on the supposition that affronted pride alone caused her embarrassment.

The chief symptom of her heart being really tender towards Somerset consisted in her apparent blindness to Charlotte's secret, so obviously suggested by her momentary agitation.
V.
And where was the subject of their condemnatory opinions all this while?
Having secured a room at his inn, he came forth to complete the discovery of his dear mistress's halting-place without delay.