Ernestine was a delightful hostess, she loved situations, and her social tact was illimitable.

In a few minutes Trent was seated in a comfortable and solid chair with a little round table by his side, drinking tea and eating buttered scones, and if not altogether at his ease very nearly so.

Opposite him was Davenant, dying to escape yet constrained to be agreeable, and animated too with a keen, distasteful curiosity to watch Ernestine's methods.

And Ernestine herself chatted all the time, diffused good fellowship and tea--she made an atmosphere which had a nameless fascination for the man who had come to middle-age without knowing what a home meant.

Davenant studied him and became thoughtful.
He took note of the massive features, the iron jaw, the eyes as bright as steel, and his thoughtfulness became anxiety.