For a single instant, as she did so, she looked with level brows at the glittering ocean; then, lowering her eyes, she went on with her reading.

In this barely perceptible movement he saw Angela Vivian; it was wonderful how well he remembered her.

She was evidently reading very seriously; she was much interested in her book.
She was alone; Bernard looked about for her mother, but Mrs.Vivian was not in sight.

By this time Bernard had become aware that he was agitated; the exquisite rest of a few moments before had passed away.
His agitation struck him as unreasonable; in a few minutes he made up his mind that it was absurd.

He had done her an injury--yes; but as she sat there losing herself in a French novel--Bernard could see it was a French novel--he could not make out that she was the worse for it.