Dr.Derwent, a shy man, rather avoided her look; but he behaved to her with particular kindliness; as they stood looking towards the coast of England, he drew her hand through his arm, and stroked it once or twice--a thing he had not done on the whole journey.
"The brave old island!" he was murmuring.

"I should be really disturbed if I thought death would find me away from it.

Foolish fancy, but it's strong in me." Irene was taciturn, and unlike herself.

The approach to port enabled her to avoid gossips, but one person, Helen Borisoff, guessed what had happened; Irene's grave countenance and Arnold Jacks' meditative smile partly instructed her.

On the railway journey to London, Jacks had the discretion to keep apart in a smoking-carriage.