She did not look at him, but turned her eyes to the window.

There she saw Mr.Belcher, who had just been sent away from the door.

He bowed, and she returned the bow, but the smile she summoned to her face by force of habit, failed quickly, for her heart had learned to despise him.
Harry wrote the name, left it upon the table, and then came to get his kiss.

The caress was calmer and tenderer than any she had given him.

His instinct detected the change; and, when he bade her a good night, it seemed as if she had grown motherly,--as if a new life had been developed in her that subordinated the old,--as if, in her life, the sun had set, and the moon had risen.
She had no doubt that as Harry left the door Mr.Belcher would see him, and seek admission at once on his hateful business, for, strong as his passion was for Mrs.Dillingham, he never forgot his knavish affairs, in which he sought to use her as a tool.