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Juve contemplated M. Etienne Rambert in silence for a few minutes, and then, without replying directly to his visitor's first question, asked him a question in that quiet voice of his, the wonderful indifferent tonelessness of which concealed the least clue to his inmost thoughts. "Why do you come to me, sir?" "To find out, sir," the old man answered. "To find out what?"
But Cope's voice, in his hearing, had lapsed from resonance to non-resonance, and from that to tonelessness, and from that to quietude.... Was the fellow in process of making a long diminuendo a possible matter of weeks or of months? As before, when confronted by what had once seemed a paragon of dash and vigor, he scarcely knew whether to be exasperated or appeased.
He had pressed wet hand to dry now, palm to palm, the coin cupped tightly between them. He turned a quarter circle, to face the still distant open sea. "That way." He spoke with a new odd tonelessness. Shann stared into the other's face. All the eager alertness of only a moment earlier had been wiped away.
Her voice had lost its ring; there was a tonelessness about it which convinced Rupert that she had already heard what he had come to tell. "I thought you had gone with the others," he said, "but I am glad to find you here. I can tell you first alone. I have sad news, Kitty. Why don't you come and shake hands with me, dear, as you always do?
"Oh, what's the use?" he said, an immense weariness in his voice. "What's the use of anything, if you are going to use that argument?" said Sylvia, putting him down conclusively. He spoke with a sudden heartfelt simplicity, "Damn 'f I know, Sylvia." For the first time in all the afternoon, his voice lost its tonelessness, and rang out with the resonance of sincerity.
The calm assurance of the man fanned her rising anger, and, when she answered, her voice was low and steady, with the tonelessness of forced control. "And your name, you Oligarch of the Far Outland? May I presume to ask your name?" "Why ask? My name you already know. And upon the word of yon scum, you have judged.
After Violetta had gone, Carlo, though he shunned secret interviews, addressed his betrothed as one who was not strange to his occupation and the trial his heart was undergoing. She could not doubt that she was beloved, in spite of the colourlessness and tonelessness of a love that appealed to her intellect.
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