On first becoming aware, indeed, whose _tete-a-tete_ it is that he has interrupted, whose low, quick voices they are that have dropped into such sudden, suspicious silence at his approach--I can see him start perceptibly, can see his gray eyes dart with lightning quickness from Musgrave to me, and from me to Musgrave; and in his voice there is to me an equally perceptible tone of ice-coldness; but to an ordinary observer it would seem the greeting, neither more nor less warm, exchanged between two moderately friendly acquaintances meeting after absence.
"How are you, Musgrave?
I had no idea that you were in this part of the world!" "No more had I!" answers Musgrave, with an exaggerated laugh.

"No more I was, until--until _to-day_." He has not caught the infection of Roger's stately calm.

His face has not recovered a _trace_ of even its usual slight color, and his eyes are twitching nervously.

Mrs.Huntley appears unaware of any thing.

Her artistic eye has been caught by the tight bean-pot, and her fingers are employed in trying to give a little air of ease and liberty to its crowded inmates.