He bent his heavy brows upon her, and shot a black glance her way, being, of course, immediately enraged by her reflection of his own manner, but he did not speak to her.
Nor did he once address her during the evening meal, preferring to honor Mrs.Tanberry with his conversation, to that diplomatic lady's secret anger, but outward amusement.

She cheerfully neglected to answer him at times, having not the slightest awe of him, and turned to the girl instead; indeed, she was only prevented from rating him soundly at his own table by the fear that she might make the situation more difficult for her young charge.

As soon as it was possible, she made her escape with Miss Betty, and they drove away in the twilight to pay visits of duty, leaving Mr.Carewe frowning at his coffee on the veranda.
When they came home, three hours later, Miss Betty noticed that a fringe of illumination bordered each of the heavily curtained windows in the cupola, and she uttered an exclamation, for she had never known that room to be lighted.
"Look!" she cried, touching Mrs.Tanberry's arm, as the horses trotted through the gates under a drizzle of rain, "I thought the room in the cupola was empty.

It's always locked, and when I came from St.Mary's he told me that old furniture was stored there." Mrs.Tanberry was grateful for the darkness.

"He may have gone there to read," she answered, in a queer voice.