Returning to Mrs Sindlesham’s chair, he held up the miniature so the face depicted there was turned towards the old lady. It is picturesquely situated beneath a tree on the high road, not far from the little hostel before mentioned, and at no great distance from the church. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. Her father read a draft prospectus warily, and her aunt dropped fragments of her projects for managing while the cook had a holiday. It was after all a momentary affair. He poured a pinch of tobacco into his palm and sniffed.
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