Her bonnet was on; her boxes were packed; she was waiting impatiently until it was time to go to the train.

I handed the paper to her, without a word on my side.

Without a word on hers, she looked where I pointed, and read the news of Michael Vanstone's death.
The paper dropped out of her hand, and she suddenly pulled down her veil.

I caught one glance at her face before she hid it from me.

The effect on my mind was startling in the extreme.