Casually he looked over his left shoulder.
Rossland was there, in his seat at the opposite side of the room.
Indirect as his glance had been, Alan saw the girl understood the significance of it.

She bowed her head a little, and her long lashes shaded her eyes for a moment.

He wondered why he always looked at her hair first.

It had a peculiarly pleasing effect on him.

He had been observant enough to know that she had rearranged it since breakfast, and the smooth coils twisted in mysterious intricacy at the crown of her head were like softly glowing velvet.