She looked at each in turn, glanced furtively towards Sir John, made a suitable reply to some remark addressed to her by the baron, and tore open Jack's envelope.

There was a gravity--a concentrated gravity--about her lips as she unfolded the thin paper; and Sir John, who knew the world and the little all-important trifles thereof, gave an impatient sigh.

It is the little trifle that betrays the man, and not the larger issues of life in which we usually follow precedent.

It was that passing gravity (of the lips only) that told Sir John more about Millicent Chyne than she herself knew, and what he had learnt did not seem to be to his liking.
There is nothing so disquieting as the unknown motive, which disquietude was Sir John's soon after breakfast.

The other men dispersed to put on gaiters and cartridge-bags, and the old aristocrat took his newspaper on to the terrace.
Millicent followed him almost at once.
"Sir John," she said, "I have had a letter from Africa." Did she take it for granted that he knew this already?
Was this spontaneous?
Had Jack told her to do it?
These questions flashed through the old man's mind as his eyes rested on her pretty face.
He was beginning to be afraid of this girl: which showed his wisdom.