But I have reason to think now that Belle Treherne was not wholly moved by annoyance--that she had seen something unusual, maybe oppressive, in my look.

She turned to her father.

He adjusted his glasses as if, in his pride, to see her better.

Then he fondly took her arm, and they left the room.
Then I saw Mrs.Falchion's face at the port-hole opposite.

Her eyes were on me.