She fairly hungered for news of him, for the sound of his habitual phrases, for the description of his familiar gestures.

She had the woman's anxiety for his bodily health, she wished to know whether he had changed in face or figure, and, if so, how and in what measure.

But she glanced at the obtuse, unobservant countenance of Captain Willoughby, and she understood that however much she craved for these particulars, she must go without.
"I beg your pardon," she said.

"Will you go on ?" "I asked him what he wanted," Willoughby resumed, "and why he had not sent in his name.

'You would not have seen me if I had,' he replied, and he drew a packet of letters out of his pocket.