But, Lucy, give me that letter--you don't really care for it." To this provocative speech I made no answer.

Graham in mirthful mood must not be humoured too far.

Just now there was a new sort of smile playing about his lips--very sweet, but it grieved me somehow--a new sort of light sparkling in his eyes: not hostile, but not reassuring.

I rose to go--I bid him good-night a little sadly.
His sensitiveness--that peculiar, apprehensive, detective faculty of his--felt in a moment the unspoken complaint--the scarce-thought reproach.

He asked quietly if I was offended.