He drew near the hearth and let his gaze fall into the fire.

When he presently lifted his eyes and looked full upon the woman with a steady, candid glance, she was regarding him with apparent coldness, but with secret diligence and scrutiny, and a yet more inward and secret surprise and admiration.

Hard rubbing was bringing out the grain of the apothecary.

But she presently suppressed the feeling.

She hated men.
But Frowenfeld, even while his eyes met hers, could not resent her hostility.