The opening of her room door startled her into a life of external consciousness.
Her husband entered.

She glanced at his face, and saw that something had occurred to ruffle his feelings.

He looked at her strangely for some moments, as if searching for expected meanings in her countenance.
"Are you not well ?" Mrs.Dexter asked.
"Oh, yes, I'm well enough," he answered with unusual abruptness of manner.
She said no more, and he commenced pacing the floor of their small parlor backwards and forwards with restless footsteps.
Once, without moving her head or body, Mrs.Dexter stole a glance towards her husband; she encountered his eyes turning stealthily upon her, and scanning her face with an earnest scrutiny.

A moment their eyes lingered, mutually spell-bound, and then the glances were mutually withdrawn.

Mr.Dexter continued his nervous perambulations, and his wife remained seated and silent.
The ringing of the bell announced tea.