"See this woman, and know what I can do with her, when she has repelled her guardian angel, and her soul is left to ME." But the revelation showed itself, and vanished.

Her face was composed again, when her son and her lawyer looked at it.

Her voice was under control; her inbred capacity for deceit was ready for action.

All those formidable qualities in her nature, which a gentler and wiser training than hers had been might have held in check--by development of preservative influences that lay inert--were now driven back to their lurking-place; leaving only the faintest traces of their momentary appearance on the surface.

Her breathing seemed to be oppressed; her eyelids drooped heavily--and that was all.
"Is the room too hot for you ?" Ovid asked.
It was a harmless question, but any question annoyed her at that moment.
"Nonsense!" she exclaimed irritably.
"The atmosphere of the conservatory is rich in reviving smells," Mr.
Mool remarked.