At other times when events failed to agitate her by a direct appeal to personal interests, her constitutional reserve held the rule.

She could be impenetrably honest, steadily industrious, truly grateful--but the intuitive expression of feeling, on ordinary occasions, was beyond her reach.
After an interval of nearly half an hour, Mr.Vimpany made his appearance.

Pausing in the doorway, he consulted his watch, and entered on a calculation which presented him favourably from a professional point of view.
"Allow for time lost in reviving my lord when he fainted, and stringing him up with a drop of brandy, and washing my hands (look how clean they are!), I haven't been more than twenty minutes in mending his throat.
Not bad surgery, Miss Henley." "Is his life safe, Mr.Vimpany ?" "Thanks to his luck--yes." "His luck ?" "To be sure! In the first place, he owes his life to your finding him when you did; a little later, and it would have been all over with Lord Harry.

Second piece of luck: catching the doctor at home, just when he was most wanted.

Third piece of luck: our friend didn't know how to cut his own throat properly.