"I don't know," he replied, which was the perfect truth as far as it went.

It did not go quite far enough, for he did not add that he did not know why Horace Allen did not want her to go, and that was his own reason.
However, Sylvia could not possibly fathom that.

She sniffed with her delicate nostrils, as if she actually smelled some questionable odor of character.

"You men have mighty queer streaks, that's all I've got to say," she returned.
When they were in the house again she resumed her book, reading every word carefully, and Henry took up the Sunday paper, which he had not finished.

The thoughts of both, however, turned from time to time towards Horace.