And it was at this smaller window that Colville glanced as he sat down, with a pause indicative of reluctance.
Turner saw the glance and noted the reluctance.

He concluded, perhaps, in the slow, sure mind that worked behind his little peeping eyes, that Loo Barebone was in the carriage in the court-yard, and that Colville was anxious to return to him as soon as possible.
"It is very kind of you to say that, I am sure," pursued Turner, rousing himself to be pleasant and conversational.

"But, although the loss is mine, my dear Colville, the fault is mostly yours.

You always know where to find me when you want my society.

I am anchored in this chair, whereas one never knows where one has a butterfly like yourself." "A butterfly that is getting a bit heavy on the wing," answered Colville, with his wan and sympathetic smile.