They were both very quiet and pale.

Zara had gone into the sitting-room first, and was standing looking out on the sea when her husband came into the room, and she did not turn round, until he said "Good morning," coldly, and she realized it was he.
Some strange quiver passed over her at the sound of his voice.
"Breakfast should be ready," he went on calmly.

"I ordered it for eleven o'clock.

I told your maid to tell you so.

I hope that gave you time to dress." "Yes, thank you," was all she said; and he rang the bell and opened the papers, which the waiters had piled on the table, knowing the delight of young bridal pairs to see news of themselves! And as Zara glanced at her lord's handsome face she saw a cynical, disdainful smile creep over it, at something he read.
And she guessed it was the account of their wedding; and she, too, took up another paper and looked at the headings.
Yes, there was a flaming description of it all.