She greeted her father with a smile, which made up for all her seeming want of courtesy to him, and then fixed her large gray eyes full on Philammon.
'Here is the youth, my daughter.

It was your wish, you know; and I always believe that you know best--' Another smile put an end to this speech, and the old man retreated humbly toward another door, with a somewhat anxious visage, and then lingering and looking back, his hand upon the latch-- 'If you require any one, you know, you have only to call--we shall be all in the library.' Another smile; and the old man disappeared, leaving the two alone.
Philammon stood trembling, choking, his eyes fixed on the floor.

Where were all the fine things he had conned over for the occasion?
He dared not look up at that face, lest it should drive them out of his head.

And yet the more lie kept his eyes turned from the face, the more lie was conscious of it, conscious that it was watching him; and the more all the fine words were, by that very knowledge, driven out of his head....
When would she speak?
Perhaps she wished him to speak first.

It was her duty to begin, for she had sent for him....