Miss Derwent's vigour of mind and body was not sustained on air, and she never affected a delicate appetite.

There was still something of the healthy schoolgirl in her manner.

Otway glanced at her once or twice, but immediately averted his eyes--with a slight frown, as if the light had dazzled him.
She was talking of Finland, and mentioned the name of her father's man-servant, Thibaut.

It entered several times into the narrative, and always with an approving epithet, the excellent Thibaut, the brave Thibaut.
"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs.Hannaford, presently, "do tell Mr.Otway the story of Thibaut." "Yes, do!" urged Olga.
Piers raised his eyes to the last speaker, and moved them timidly towards Irene.

She smiled, meeting his look with a sort of merry satisfaction.
"Mr.Otway is occupied with serious thoughts," was her good-humoured remark.
"I should much like to hear the story of Thibaut," said Piers, bending forward a little.
"Would you?
You shall--Thibaut Rossignol; delightful name, isn't it?
And one of the most delightful of men, though only a servant, and the son of a village shopkeeper.