A kiss or a saucy nod for Castleman or Twonette, a smile or a frown for Max and me, were the instruments wherewith she worked.

Deftly she turned each situation as she desired.

Max made frequent efforts to obtain a private moment with her, that he might ask a few questions concerning her wonderful knowledge of his ring--they had been burning him since the night of her sorcery--but, though she knew quite well his desire to question her, she gave him no opportunity.
During the time that Castleman was buying his silks, the members of our little party grew rapidly in friendship.

In culture, education, and refinement, the Castlemans were far above any burghers I had ever known.
Franz and his wife, though good, simple people, were not at all in Castleman's class.

They felt their inferiority, and did not go abroad with us, though we supped daily with them.