Her color was very high and she deliberately avoided the imploring eyes of Mr.Poynter.
"What in the _world_ is it all about ?" begged Ann helplessly.

"And _who_ was the grayish monk who flitted about so mysteriously telling us that the minstrel was a _prince_! It spread like wildfire.

As for you, Philip Poynter, it's exactly like you! To depart night before last and suddenly reappear is _quite_ of a piece with your mysterious habit of fading periodically out of civilization.

Baron Tregar, how _exceedingly_ delightful of you to come this way and surprise me when I fancied you were so keen about those horrid tarpon that you wouldn't leave them for all I _wrote_ and _wrote_." There was a sprightly nervousness in Ann's manner.

She was uncomfortably aware of a subtle undercurrent.
"And I've another unexpected guest," she added to Diane.