I am ashamed of my discourtesy.

I need not say that I regard you as indispensable--and--I think I have been able to do something for your Greek.' He smiled--a smile that was like a foam-flake on a stormy sea.

But he could put on the grand manner when he chose, and Elizabeth was to some extent propitiated.

After all he and his ways were no longer strange to her.

Very unwillingly she seated herself again, and he went rapidly to his writing-table.
Then silence fell, except for the scratching of the Squire's pen.
Elizabeth sat pretending to read, but in truth becoming every moment the prey of increasing disquiet.