And then there was such an odd sadness in his eyes.
"Are you anxious for your folks' coming ?" she said at last, following his outlook.
"I--oh no!" he returned, quickly recalling himself, "they'll be sure to come--sooner or later.

No fear of that," he added, half smilingly, half wearily.
Mrs.Bunker passed into the kitchen, where, while apparently attending to her household duties, she could still observe her singular guest.
Left alone, he seated himself mechanically in the chair, and gazed fixedly at the fireplace.

He remained a long time so quiet and unmoved, in spite of the marked ostentatious clatter Mrs.Bunker found it necessary to make with her dishes, that an odd fancy that he was scarcely a human visitant began to take possession of her.

Yet she was not frightened.

She remembered distinctly afterwards that, far from having any concern for herself, she was only moved by a strange and vague admiration of him.
But her prolonged scrutiny was not without effect.