And Mr.Keene was led to the drawing-room.
Alice was reposing on a couch; she did not trouble herself to rise when the visitor entered, but held a hand to him, at the same time scarcely suppressing a yawn.

Novel reading has a tendency to produce this expression of weariness.

Then she smiled, as one does in greeting an old acquaintance.
'Who ever would have expected to see you!' she began, drawing away her hand when it seemed to her that Mr.Keene had detained it quite long enough.

'Does Dick expect you ?' 'Your brother does not expect me, Miss Mutimer,' Keene replied.
He invariably began conversation with her in a severely formal and respectful tone, and to-day there was melancholy in his voice.
'You've just come on your own--because you thought you would ?' 'I have come because I could not help it, Miss Mutimer.

It is more than a month since I had the happiness of seeing you.' He stood by the couch, his body bent in deference, his eyes regarding her with melancholy homage.
'Mrs.Mutimer has a tea-party of children from New Wanley,' said Alice with a provoking smile.