Drifting towards the shrubbery, some time later, there I met Mr.Franklin.

After returning from seeing his cousin off at the station, he had been with my lady, holding a long conversation with her.

She had told him of Miss Rachel's unaccountable refusal to let her wardrobe be examined; and had put him in such low spirits about my young lady that he seemed to shrink from speaking on the subject.

The family temper appeared in his face that evening, for the first time in my experience of him.
"Well, Betteredge," he said, "how does the atmosphere of mystery and suspicion in which we are all living now, agree with you?
Do you remember that morning when I first came here with the Moonstone?
I wish to God we had thrown it into the quicksand!" After breaking out in that way, he abstained from speaking again until he had composed himself.

We walked silently, side by side, for a minute or two, and then he asked me what had become of Sergeant Cuff.