Her first feeling was of gratitude.

A moment later she blamed herself for having asked his forbearance by a look, and him for his confidence in seeking that look.

His eyes, during the moment they encountered hers, had said, "We under-stand one another." He had no right to assume so much, and yet she had not denied it.
Endymion Westcote meanwhile had picked up a small book which lay face downward on one of the step-ladders.
"So here is the source of your inspiration?
said he.

An _Ovid_?
How it brings up old school-days At Winchester--old swishings, too, General, hey ?" He held the book open and studied the Ariadne on the wall.
"The source of my inspiration indeed, M.le Commissaire! But you will not find Ariadne in that text, which contains only the _Tristia_." "Ah, but, I told you my classics were a bit rusty," replied the Commissary.

He made the round of the walls and commended, in his breezy way, each separate panel.