Anthony Hope

“ I glanced again across the room; nothing was to be seen but a black head and a fair one in close proximity. It was not interesting. I turned again to Mrs. Duncan, who started the least bit in the world.
"How do you manage those little curls on your forehead?" I asked (I like to understand things) .
"Oh, it's quite easy. Do you think they're not real, Mr. Vansittart?"
"I don't know," said I, prudently.
"They're all my own. What an unbelieving boy you are! How can I satisfy you?"
I looked round the room. Supper was going on, and, save for the preoccupied couple opposite, we were alone. ”

“ The man opposite opened and shut the fan; I followed his example. Mrs. Duncan seemed to pay little attention to me; I threw Mrs. Duncan's fan down carelessly.
"Take care; you'll break it," she said, almost sharply.
"Look!" I cried. "He's turned right round, and he's staring at her like anything!" and I gazed across in a most interested manner.
"Well, it's sometimes thought polite to look at people when you talk to them."
"I think that's more than politeness," said I, turning to Mrs. Duncan. ”

“ Then it means nothing, of course?"
"Nothing at all, Mr. Vansittart," she smiled.
"And they're talking to one another quite low."
"We're not speaking very loud."
"Well, we won't count that then. Oh, but look! He's buttoning her glove." ”