She was a bit friendly.

With her looking at him like that he did not feel quite so alone with himself.

And there could not be much of a change in her since that yesterday of a year ago, when some one had startled her there.
It was Father Roland's voice that made him wrap up the picture again, this time not in its old covering, but in a silk handkerchief which he had pawed out of his bag, and which he dropped back again, and locked in.

Thoreau was telling the Missioner about David's early rising when the latter reappeared.

They shook hands, and the Missioner, looking David keenly in the eyes, saw the change in him.
"No need to tell me you had a good night!" he exclaimed.
"Splendid," affirmed David.
The window was blazing with the golden sun now; it shot through where the frost was giving way, and a ray of it fell like a fiery shaft on Marie's glossy head as she bent over the table.