She listened to all that was said, saying almost nothing herself.
Paul's eyes hardly left her face, and he instantly observed that a
shadow suddenly clouded it, the same shadow which had fallen over it on
the evening before. Turning his eyes in the direction of her gaze, he
saw William Pressley standing not far away. He did not know that the
white-haired gentleman who stood beside the young man was Philip Alston,
but he noted that the shadow quickly left Ruth's face at sight of the
older man, when, brightening and smiling, she beckoned the newcomers to
approach. And he also saw what she seemed not to see, that the older man
turned a frowning face on the younger, and said something which was not
cordially received. Had he known William Pressley better, he would have
seen the dignified protest that was in every line of his large
slow-moving figure as he followed Philip Alston across the wide open
space to Ruth's side. To her, William's very step said as plain as words
could have spoken that he was used to being misunderstood, but none the
less sure of having done his whole duty.
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