She could not watch this time, but, leaning over the old bureau at which she had written the letter, closed her eyes, as if to keep out both hope and fear.
The case, however, was a promising one.

Gabriel was not angry: he was simply neutral, although her first command had been so haughty.
Such imperiousness would have damned a little less beauty; and on the other hand, such beauty would have redeemed a little less imperiousness.
She went out when the horse was heard, and looked up.

A mounted figure passed between her and the sky, and drew on towards the field of sheep, the rider turning his face in receding.

Gabriel looked at her.

It was a moment when a woman's eyes and tongue tell distinctly opposite tales.