John was acutely focused upon her now, just as she had wanted him to be. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. What was yet more worthy of note was, that the widow's countenance had an air of refinement about it, of which it was utterly destitute before, and which seemed to intimate that her true position in society was far above that wherein accident had placed her.
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