She sat opposite him at table three times a day, and never addressed a word to him, or to Mrs. MacGregor, who carried on whatever conversation there might be.  Mrs. MacGregor liked to give details of entertainments “at home,” at which she herself had been present, or of events in which A Member of My Family had participated.  “I said to the dear Bishop,”—­“His Lordship remarked to My Cousin.”  Sometimes during these recitals the thin, fine edge of a smile touched Nancy’s lips.  It was gone so quickly one wasn’t quite sure it had been there at all; yet its brief passage gave her a strange expression of mockery and of weariness.  She offered no opinions of her own about anything; she made no slightest attempt to keep the conversation alive; you could talk, or you could remain silent—­it was all one to her.  Yet dumb and indifferent though she appeared to be, you felt her presence as something very vital, listening, and immensely honest and natural.

He wished she would speak to him, say something more than a mere “Yes” or “No.”  Girls had always been more than willing to talk to Glenn Mitchell—­very much prettier and more fascinating girls than this silent, stubborn, red-headed Anne Champneys.  He began to feel piqued, as well as puzzled.

And then, one day, he happened to glance up suddenly and in that instant encountered a full, straight, intense look from her—­a look that weighed, and wondered, and searched, and was piercingly, almost unbearably eager and wistful.  He felt himself engulfed, as it were, in the bottomless depths of that long, clear gaze, that went over him like the surge of great waters, and drenched his consciousness to the core.  Brand-new Eve might have looked thus at brand-new Adam, sinlessly, virginally, yet with an avid and fearful questioning and curiosity.  For the second his heart shook and reeled in his breast.  Then the dark lashes fell and veiled the shining glance.  Her face was once more indifferent and mask-like.

As a matter of fact, Nancy was avidly interested in Glenn, in whom for the first time she encountered youth.  He came like a fresh breeze into an existence in which she stifled.  From his first appearance in the house she had watched him stealthily, looking at him openly only when she thought herself unobserved.  Conscious of her own defects, she was timid where this good-looking young man was concerned.  It never occurred to her that she might interest him, but she did not wish him to think ill of her.  She kept herself in the background as much as possible.

She had none of the joyousness natural to a girl of her age.  She had no young companions.  Was there some reason?  Wasn’t she happy?  He felt vaguely troubled for her.  She aroused his sympathy, as well as his curiosity.  He couldn’t forget that look he had surprised.  It stayed in his memory, perilously.  At night in his room, when he should have been studying, that astonishing glance came before him on his book, and cast a luminous spell upon him.