A few weeks after her arrival, Helen and Mary were walking to the post-office.

Helen had a number of letters to mail, her correspondents being active and her answers prompt.
They hadn't gone far when a young man appeared in the distance, approaching them.

Mary gave him a look to see who it was, and after saying to Helen, "This is Bob McAllister--one of our neighbours.

He's home from school," she continued the conversation and failed to give Sir Robert another thought.
Not so Helen, however.
One hand went to the back of her hair with a graceful gesture, and next she touched her nose with a powdered handkerchief.
A moment before, she had been looking straight ahead with a rather thoughtful expression, but now she half turned to Mary, smiling and nodding.

In some manner her carriage, even her walk, underwent a change.
But when I try to tell you what I mean I feel as tongue-tied as a boy who is searching for a word which doesn't exist.