She had no need to smile, no need to conceal, beneath a calm and equable appearance, all those tempestuous and despairing feelings which were working within.

She could allow her hatred and her resentment, her rage and her despair, to pour forth in words and gestures, in tears and imprecations, in sobs and sighs.

She could fall on her knees and beseech God for grace and mercy, and call on the devil for revenge and destruction.
When she had so done, she arose, and her demeanor resumed its wonted cold and calm expression.

Only her cheeks were still paler; only a still gloomier fire darted from her eyes, and a scornful smile played about her thin, compressed lips.
She traversed the rooms and corridors, and now she entered the king's anteroom.

As she observed Gardiner, who was standing alone and separated from the rest in the embrasure of the window, she went up to him; and John Heywood, who was still hidden behind the curtain, shuddered at the frightful and scornful expression of her features.
She offered the bishop her hand, and tried to smile.