There was a scent of him somewhere--the scent of a fine cigar.

She felt uneasy of she knew not what.

Did she wish him to come back?
Was she excited?
Should she go out?
And then, for no reason on earth, she suddenly burst into tears.
* * * * * They met for dinner, and she herself had never looked or been more icy cold than Tristram was.

They went down into the restaurant and there, of course, he encountered some friends dining, too, in a merry party; and he nodded gayly to them and told her casually who they were, and then went on with his dinner.

His manner had lost its constraint, it was just casually indifferent.