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Mme. la Duchesse perceived this, no doubt, for her keen eyes were fixed scrutinisingly upon her brother; she saw too that his thin lips were quivering and that the reason why he made no comment on what he had just heard was because he could not quite trust himself to speak.
Timmins looked scrutinisingly at it. "Well, I'm sure, sir! What a forger you would have made!" he said admiringly. "I would have sworn that was Mr. Mills's own hand of write. It's wonderful, sir." Mr. Taynton sighed, and took the paper again. "Yes, it is like, isn't it?" he said, "and it's so easy to do. Luckily forgers don't know the way to forge properly."
"We must bear our sorrows as best we may, papa," she answered, very gently. "We must help each other. You and I are alone now in the world." A contraction, as of some fresh pain, came over his livid face. He raised his head to speak, but, stopping himself with an obvious effort, looked long and scrutinisingly in his daughter's face.
He would sit at meals never saying a word, with his eyes fixed scrutinisingly on his wife, as if vainly trying to solve some dreadful mystery; while his wife, ethereal, exquisite, went on talking in her listless way about the masque, about Lovelock, always about Lovelock.
"We have done all we can. The next move must come from you." "I know of one that will settle the matter at once," I assured him, still with my eyes fixed scrutinisingly on his face "a universal search, not of places, but of persons. But it is a harsh measure." "A most disagreeable one," he emphasised, flushing. "Such an indignity offered to guests would never be forgotten or forgiven." "True.
Nekhludoff looked at Selenin scrutinisingly and with surprise, and Selenin dropped his eyes, in which appeared an expression not only of sadness but also of ill-will. "Do you, then, believe in the dogmas of the church?" Nekhludoff asked. "Of course I do," replied Selenin, gazing straight into Nekhludoff's eyes with a lifeless look. Nekhludoff sighed. "It is strange," he said.
Oh how scrutinisingly he scanned that face, with its brilliant black eyes, where tears were glittering like diamonds in the sunlight, its rich healthful bloom, its proudly curved lip, its dimpled chin and soft, round cheeks What did he think of it? Did it meet his expectations? Was the face he had known so long in his darkness as Edith's, natural when seen by daylight?
She walked in and then turned and faced her guide, who looked at her, long and scrutinisingly, opened her lips as if about to speak, and then shut them with a snap, as if afraid that words might escape against her will hesitated for a moment, and then walked out and closed the door in silence. Philippa sank into a chair and buried her face in her hands. One question was ringing through her brain.
I know him slightly, and he has been most kind to me when we have met, but I cannot claim him as a friend. I am one of his most ardent admirers." "And do you write yourself?" queried Hilary, looking scrutinisingly at the sensitive, intellectual face, and anticipating the answer before it came. "A little. Yes! It is my great consolation. My name is Herbert Rayner, Miss Bertrand.
He would sit at meals never saying a word, with his eyes fixed scrutinisingly on his wife, as if vainly trying to solve some dreadful mystery; while his wife, ethereal, exquisite, went on talking in her listless way about the masque, about Lovelock, always about Lovelock.
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