His fingers twitched spasmodically, and his eyes burned like firecoals behind those gleaming lenses.
Then, as he peered at her, he suddenly went even paler than before.
Through his heart a stab of understanding had all at once gone home.

The veils were lifted, and he knew the truth.
Her manner in speaking of that unknown, wandering rescuer; the blush that had burned from breast to brow, when he had mentioned the fellow; her aversion for Waldron and her reticence in talking of the accident--all this, and more, now surged on Flint's comprehension, flooding his mind with light--with light and with terrible anger.
And, losing all control, he took a step or two, and raised his shaking hand.

His big-knuckled finger, shaken in denunciation, was raised almost in her face.

Choking, stammering, he cried: "Ah! Now I know! Now, now I understand you!" Terrified, she retreated toward the door of the music-room.
"Father, father! What makes you look so ?" she gasped.

"Oh, you have never looked or spoken to me this way! What--what can it be ?" "What can it be ?" he mouthed at her.