The woman who had spoken to Piers yet hovered about the doors.

She cursed him through her painted lips as he passed, but he went by her like a prince, haughtily aloof, contemptuously regardless.
They sat down in a comparatively quiet corner, whence they could watch the ever-shifting picture without being disturbed.

A very peculiar mood possessed Piers.

He was restless and uneasy in spite of his high spirits.
For no definite reason he wanted to keep on the move.

In deference to Crowther's wish, he controlled the desire, but it was an obvious effort.
He seemed to find difficulty also in attending to Crowther's quiet remarks, and after a while Crowther ceased to make them.