Eileen was in the hall.

Linda could not tell what was happening from the murmur of voices.

Presently John and Eileen entered the room, and as Linda greeted him she did have the impression that he appeared unusually thoughtful and worried.

She sat for half an hour, taking slight part in the conversation.

Then she excused herself and went to her room, and as she went she knew that she could not honestly write Marian what she had hoped, for in thirty minutes by the clock Eileen's blandishments had worked, and John Gilman was looking at her as if she were the most exquisite and desirable creature in existence.
Slowly Linda climbed the stairs and entered her room.