The Elder Brother, at Tadmor, used to say it was sympathy.

But _he_ is a sentimentalist.
Well, Mr.Farnaby presented me to his wife--and then walked away as if he was sick of us both, and looked out of the window.
For some reason or other, Mrs.Farnaby seemed to be surprised, for the moment, by my personal appearance.

Her husband had, very likely, not told her how young I was.

She got over her momentary astonishment, and, signing to me to sit by her on the sofa, said the necessary words of welcome--evidently thinking something else all the time.

The strange miserable eyes looked over my shoulder, instead of looking at me.
"Mr.Farnaby tells me you have been living in America." The tone in which she spoke was curiously quiet and monotonous.