Her lips shaped themselves to that expression which he knew so well, the half-smile telling of habitual sadness.
His fixed gaze recalled her to herself, and immediately the countenance changed beyond recognition.

Her eyes wandered past him with a look of cold if not defiant reserve; the lips lost all their sweetness.

He was chilled with vague distrust, and once again asked himself whether this could be the Eve Madeley whose history he had heard.
Again she fell into abstraction, and some trouble seemed to grow upon her mind.

It was difficult now to identify her with the girl who had talked and laughed so gaily last evening.

Towards the end of the journey a nervous restlessness began to appear in her looks and movements.