But he came in late, haggard and pale, living evidence of a sleepless night.

Veath was with him and her heart sank.

During the meal the good-natured Indianian did most of the talking, being driven at last, by the strange reticence of his companions, to the narration of a series of personal experiences.
Struggle as he would, he could not bring a mirthful laugh from the girl beside him, nor from the sour visaged man beyond.

They laughed, of course, but it was the laugh of politeness.
"I wonder if she is in love, too," shot through his mind, and a thrill of regret grew out of the possibility.

Once his eye caught her in the act of pressing Hugh's hand as it was being withdrawn from sight.