Apparently he was looking out of the window.
"Her methods," Borrowdean continued, "did not commend themselves to us, but beggars must not be choosers.

Besides, the Duchess was in love with her own scheme.

Such objections as we made were at once overruled." He paused, but Mannering said nothing.

He was still looking out of the window, though his eyes saw nothing of the street below, or the great club buildings opposite.

A scent of roses, lost now and then in the salter fragrance of the night breeze sweeping over the marshes, the magic of a wonderful, white-clad presence, the low words, the sense of a world apart, a world of speechless beauty....