The creature looked neither hunted nor hunting.

She was but an old woman going to the grave so near her, and going, I could not but imagine, to find the one who had given her that gold circlet some half century ago.

I rather fancied Harlson's fad.
As for him, when I told him so, he only said: "Oh, of course.

Peter told the third assistant bookkeeper to credit Harlson with such or such an amount." And he added; "If those people don't take good care of that old woman there'll be a new superintendent." But they took good care of her.
This is lugging in an incident at great length as an illustration, but I know of no other way to explain how Harlson so expressed himself when I asked him how he knew whether the woman of whom he had been talking was married or not.

He felt confident enough.
"Well, what is she like?
Can't you describe her?
Has she seared your eyes with her loveliness ?" "She hasn't seared my eyes.