She had paused by mere chance, and while her eyes were stormy with her thought, she suddenly became conscious that she was looking directly into other eyes as darkling as her own.

They were those of a man on the wrong side of the barrier.

He had a troubled, brooding face, and, as their gaze met, each of them started slightly and turned away with the sense of having unconsciously intruded and having been intruded upon.
"That rough-looking man," she commented to herself, "is as anxious and disturbed as I am." Salter did look rough, it was true.

His well-worn clothes had suffered somewhat from the restrictions of a second-class cabin shared with two other men.

But the aspect which had presented itself to her brief glance had been not so much roughness of clothing as of mood expressing itself in his countenance.