He had never been intimate with her, never intimate enough to care what her face was like, till that day when he had carried her son up from the hall door to his room.

Then her countenance had been all anxiety for her darling; and afterwards it had been all sweetness for her darling's friend.

From that day to this present one, Lady Desmond had ever given him her sweetest smiles.
But Fitzgerald was not a man to be cowed by any woman's looks.

He met hers by a full, front face in return.

He did not allow his eye for a moment to fall before hers.