She looked unusually pale.

I could not help watching her intently and trying to divine how much she knew of the story of Boyce and Althea.

She caught my eye, nodded, and smiled wanly.
My situation was uncanny.

In this crowded assemblage in front of me, whispering, talking, laughing beneath the blare of the band, not one, save Betty, had a suspicion of the tragedy.

At times they seemed to melt into a shadow-mass of dreamland ....