A swift start, a change rather than rush of blood under her white cheeks, a flashing of big eyes that fixed their glance upon him, transformed her face in that single instant of turning, and he knew she had been watching for him, that his return was the one thing in her mind.

She did not smile; she did not flush; she did not look glad.

All these would have meant little compared to her indefinite expression.

Venters grasped the peculiar, vivid, vital something that leaped from her face.

It was as if she had been in a dead, hopeless clamp of inaction and feeling, and had been suddenly shot through and through with quivering animation.