To my amazement, she only looked down gloomily on her work while I spoke; her father laughed contemptuously.
"We are too completely strangers here," he said, "for our loss to be felt by any one.

From all that I can gather, society in Duskydale will be glad to hear of our departure.

I beg your pardon, Alicia--I ought to have said _my_ departure." Her name was Alicia! I declare it was a luxury to me to hear it--the name was so appropriate, so suggestive of the grace and dignity of her beauty.
I turned toward her when the doctor had done.

She looked more gloomily than before.

I protested against the doctor's account of himself.
He laughed again, with a quick distrustful lo ok, this time, at his daughter.
"If you were to mention my name among your respectable inhabitants," he went on, with a strong, sneering emphasis on the word respectable, "they would most likely purse up their lips and look grave at it.