All his careless banter notwithstanding, she was fully convinced in her own mind that he was not in the smallest degree dazzled or so much as attracted by the brilliant beauty that so dominated her own imagination.
Though he laughed and joked in his customary cynical strain, she had a feeling that his mental energies were actually employed elsewhere.

He was like a man watching behind a mask.

Watching--for what?
Suddenly she remembered again the tragedy she had witnessed in the glen that afternoon, and her heart recoiled.
Was it the atmosphere of the place that made her morbid?
Or was there indeed some evil influence at work in her friend's life which she by her headlong action had somehow rendered active?
Before they left the Priory, she had begun to repent almost passionately the impulse that had taken her thither.

But wherefore she thus repented she could not have explained..