.

.
A silence fell, and it was as if Renouard were not going to say anything more when, suddenly, he came out with the real object of his visit to the editorial room.
"They looked to me like people under a spell." The Editor gazed at him appreciatively, thinking that, whether the effect of solitude or not, this was a proof of a sensitive perception of the expression of faces.
"You omitted to tell me their name, but I can make a guess.

You mean Professor Moorsom, his daughter and sister--don't you ?" Renouard assented.

Yes, a white-haired lady.

But from his silence, with his eyes fixed, yet avoiding his friend, it was easy to guess that it was not in the white-haired lady that he was interested.
"Upon my word," he said, recovering his usual bearing.