He rose from his seat as he saw her, but waited for her to approach.

Her eyes, dwelling on his face, noted that it was not so angry as she had last seen it, but smoothed into the semblance of sorrow and regret, with, however, something of the characteristic glance of irony which habitually distinguished him, though that may have been partly due to the pince-nez which glittered over his keen eyes.

There was something of an art in Austin Turold's manner of wearing glasses; they tilted, superiorly, at the world in general at an acute angle on the high bridge of a supercilious nose, the eyes glancing through them downwards, as though from a great height, at a remote procession of humanity crawling far beneath.
At that moment, however, there was nothing superior in his bearing.

It was so unwontedly subdued, so insistently meek, that it was to be understood that his mission was both conciliatory and propitiatory.

That, at least, was the impression Mrs.Pendleton gathered as her brother informed her that he had been waiting nearly an hour to see her.
She reflected that he must have arrived shortly after she left the hotel to go to the police station, and she wondered what had induced her brother to rise at an hour so uncommonly early for him, in order to pay her a morning visit.
"I was up betimes," said Austin, as though reading her thought.