Her master's callers were usually cheerful Bohemians, who chatted at sight.

Then she caught Grant's eye, and went out, banging the door in sheer nervousness.
Still Mr.Ingerman did not speak.

If this was a pose on his part, he erred.

Grant had passed through a trying day, but he owned the muscles and nerves of an Alpine climber, and had often stared calmly down a wall of rock and ice which he had just conquered, when the least slip would have meant being dashed to pieces two thousand feet below.
There was some advantage, too, in this species of stage wait.

It enabled him to take the measure of Adelaide Melhuish's husband, if, indeed, the visitor was really the man he professed to be.
At first sight, Isidor G.Ingerman was not a prepossessing person.
Indeed, it would be safe to assume that if, by some trick of fortune, he and not Grant were the tenant of The Hollies, P.C.Robinson would have haled him to the village lock-up that very morning.