She was pale to the lips, with drawn brows, while about her mouth played a hard, bitter expression, as though her mind were bent upon some desperate resolve.
That the man who had come there by stealth was no stranger was evident; yet that between them was some deep-rooted enmity was equally apparent.
Nevertheless, he held her irresistibly within his toils.

His clean-shaven face was a distinctly evil one.

His eyes were set too close together, and in his physiognomy was something unscrupulous and relentless.

He was not the man for a woman to trust.
She stepped back from the threshold, and for a few seconds halted outside, her ears strained to catch any sound.

Then, as though reassured, she pushed the chestnut hair from her hot, fevered brow, held her breath with strenuous effort, and, re-entering the library, advanced to her father's side.
"I wondered where you had gone, dear," he said in his low, calm voice, as he detected her presence.