She could allow herself to look at him critically now--not with just the cursory glance she had bestowed upon Henry's friend at first--for he had turned and was talking to Madame Imogen whom Sabine had signed to pour out the tea--she was not sure if her own hand might not have shaken a little and it were wiser to take no risks.
He was horribly good-looking--that jumped to the eye--and with a careless, indifferent grace--five years had only matured and increased his attractions.

He had "it"-- manifesting in every part of him and his atmosphere! A magnetism, a hateful, odious power which she felt, and fiercely resented.

He had recovered completely from whatever shock he had felt upon seeing her it would seem! for his face looked absolutely unconcerned now and perfectly at ease.
She called all her forces together and played the part of the radiant, well-mannered hostess, being even extra sweet and charming to Henry, who was in the seventh heaven in consequence.

The dreaded introduction of his too-fascinating friend at Heronac had passed off well and his adored lady did not seem to be taking any notice of him.
Michael did not seek by word or look to engage her in personal conversation; if he had really been a stranger who did not even find his hostess fair, he could not have been more casual or less impressed.

And all the while his pulses were bounding and he was growing more and more filled with astonishment and emotion.
At last a thought came.