While Henry was at Sidney Meeks's, Horace sat alone smoking and reading the evening paper.

He kept looking up from the paper and listening.

He was hoping that Rose, in spite of the fact that she had not been able to come down to supper, might yet make her appearance.
He speculated on her altered looks and manner at dinner.

He could not help being a little anxious, in spite of all Mrs.Ayres's assurances and the really vague nature of his own foreboding.

He asked himself if he had had from the beginning anything upon which to base suspicion.