She, in the meantime, had got the young man's visage by heart, had studied the meaning of every lineament--narrow eyes, sunken cheeks, forehead indicative of conceited intelligence, lips as clearly expressive of another characteristic.

Here, at all events, was a creature she could manage--an instrument--though to what purpose she was not yet perfectly clear.
"Mr.Northway, I have been listening to a sad, sad story." "Yes, it is sad," he muttered, feeling his inferiority to this soft-spoken woman, and moving his legs awkwardly.
"I must mention to you that my name is Mrs.Wade.I have known Lilian since she came to live at Polterham--only since then.

That's a very short time ago, but we have seen a good deal of each other, and have become intimate friends.

I need not tell you that I never had the faintest suspicion of what I have just learnt." This was said certainly not in a voice of indignation but with a sadness which implied anything but approval.

Northway, after trying to hold his hat in a becoming way, placed it on the floor, clicking with his tongue the while and betraying much nervousness.
"You are of course aware," pursued the lady, "that Mr.Denzil Quarrier is Liberal candidate for this borough ?" "Yes, I know." "Until to-day, he had every prospect of being elected.