She already looked better for her sleep; some of the bluish transparency seemed to have left her face.
She had not been into this room on her inspection of the house.

She liked it best of all, with its scent of burning logs and good cigars.
And Jake snorted by the fire with pleasure to see his master, and she bent and patted his head.
But everything she did was filling Tristram with fresh bitterness and pain.

To be so sweet and gentle now when it was all too late! He began opening his letters until the tea came.

There were the telegrams from Francis Markrute, sent a week before to say Zara was ill, and many epistles from friends.

And at the end of the pile he found a short note from Francis Markrute, as well.