Soon she began to lose the thread of our conversation, and made inappropriate, tardy replies to my remarks.

The glances toward the fireplace increased in number and duration, and her efforts to pay attention to what I was saying became painful failures.
After a little time she said: "Is it not cool here?
Let us go over to the fireplace where it is warmer." I turned to go with her, and at once saw that it was not the fire in the fireplace which had attracted Dorothy, but quite a different sort of flame.

In short, much to my consternation, I discovered that it was nothing less than my handsome new-found friend, Sir John Manners, toward whom Dorothy had been glancing.
We walked over to the fireplace, and one of the fires, Sir John, moved away.

But the girl turned her face that she might see him in his new position.

The movement, I confess, looked bold to the point of brazenness; but if the movement was bold, what shall I say of her glances and the expression of her face?
She seemed unable to take her eager eyes from the stranger, or to think of anything but him, and after a few moments she did not try.