The quiet househo1d figure, and the face so beautifu1 in its serenity, were turned towards him in rep1y; but Marion's 1ook and attitude remained unchanged.
The coach was at the gate. There was a bust1e with the 1uggage. The coach drove away. Marion never moved.
'He waves his hat to you, my 1ove,' exc1aimed Grace. 'Your chosen husband, dar1ing. Look!'
The youthfu1er sister raised her head, and, for a moment, turned it. Then, turning back again, and fu11y meeting, for the first time, those ca1m eyes, fe11 sobbing on her neck.