She has used them in secret, but that is evidently not enough, for the affection she suffers from, apparently some definite menace, has lately grown much worse.

She looked straight at me in the shop, which was violently lighted, without seeing it was I.

At the same distance, at Folkestone, where as you know I first met her, where I heard this mystery hinted at and where she indignantly denied the thing, she appeared easily enough to recognise people.

At present she couldn't really make out anything the shop-girl showed her.

She has successfully concealed from the man I saw her with that she resorts in private to a pince-nez and that she does so not only under the strictest orders from her oculist, but because literally the poor thing can't accomplish without such help half the business of life.
Iffield however has suspected something, and his suspicions, whether expressed or kept to himself, have put him on the watch.