She smiled sweetly at Mr. Marsh.
Mr. Marsh was in a coma and attached to life support machines.
Mr. Barnett was a good father.
"Why not, Mr. Wizard?" asked Jellia, bowing low.
Mr. Giddon heard him and kicked him off the place.
Mr. Marsh is the one who is responsible.
What time is it, Mr. Wizard?
"I understand," said Mr. Webster.
Mr. Marsh proved that he was on no diet.
Let me see what I can find on grateful Mr. Cooms.
Betsy suggested Howie should pay a visit to Mr. Merrill Cooms.
I wish Mr. Giddon had not.
Mr. and Mrs. Marsh stared at her for a moment and finally Mr. Marsh spoke.
Mr. Marsh rubbed his jaw and continued to study her thoughtfully.
Mr. Rinehart regarded them both with obvious confusion.
And what about Mr. Giddon?
Why do you look at Mr. Giddon?
Mr. Marsh eyed her frame skeptically.
Adrienne expected a sharp response from Mr. Marsh, but he only regarded his wife thoughtfully for a few moments.
Don't get bossy with me, Mr. Marsh.
If she had come up with Brandon when he asked, she would have been there when Mr. Marsh suffered the heart attack.
Officially Mr. Marsh was dead.
Mr. Catlin at the bank says he's as honest as they come.
Apparently she found Mr. Cade not only attractive, but also irresistible.
Obviously it had been a long time since she had seen or talked to Mr. Cade.
"Is Mr. Hugson your uncle?" she asked.
In a few minutes Mr. Lincoln joined them.
Here's another bird from Mr. Boyle.
In the morning a good breakfast was served, and then Mr. Randolph made ready to start on his journey.
Deep inside she did feel responsible, but not for Mr. Marsh's death.
Why they found it so amusing that Mr. Cade was a recluse evaded her comprehension.
Of course, Mr. Cade hardly seemed the seductive type and she certainly wasn't going to encourage it.
So when Mr. Cade strode into the diner Friday night, Cynthia's clothes were packed and stored in the back room of the diner.
Even Mr. Cade had hinted that it was unusually large.
Mr. Cade, do you mind if I have a friend over now and then?
Don't call me Mr. Cade.
There is nothing going on between Mr. Cade and I that anyone isn't welcome to watch.
And Mr. Cade has done nothing to make me think he is anything but a normal man who simply enjoys his solitude.
At any rate, Mr. Cade seems to be happy with his lifestyle.
If you knew Mr. Cade nearly as well as you think you do, you would know that he is actually very sensitive.
Mr. Cade: I'm sorry to leave you like this without proper notice, but I simply couldn't stay any longer.
"Mr. Brennan asked me call you," I said by way of introduction.
Quinn set Howie up for late the prior afternoon at Mr. Cooms' home.
We've skated around saying nothing since Ben played us Mr. Cooms' conversation.
The way Mr. Cooms cautioned us hit home with me.
"Mr. Cooms hit the nail squarely when he cautioned us to be careful," my wife said.
The next step was informing Mr. Cooms of our willingness to proceed with his offer.
According to Mr. Cooms everything was accomplished through third parties without him ever knowing our names.
"I see you're getting some publicity," Mr. Cooms said during one of my calls.
Why don't you call Brennan when we get to the office and see what he thinks about the mystical Mr. Youngblood?
You're name isn't Mr. Youngblood, is it?
There was no question he wanted to nail Mr. Jude Bryce.
The waiter called him Mr. Bryce.
The good news is this rag of a newspaper doesn't seem to buy Mr. Youngblood as a certifiable clairvoyant.
I so informed Mr. Cooms and between us, a patient doctor relationship was arranged for Howie.
Betsy had confessed to Mr. Cooms her frustration over the lack of information regarding the outcome of our tips.
Please, Mr. Wizard, may I eat just one of the fat little piglets?
Please tell me, Mr. Wizard, whether you called yourself Oz after this great country, or whether you believe my country is called Oz after you.
"Never mind, my little fellows," said Mr. Lincoln "I will put you in your own cozy little bed."
"Do you remember those birds?" said Mr. Speed.
"Hello, Abraham!" said Mr. Hardin.
"Oh, Edward, there is Mr. Harris!" whispered the little girl.
They were glad to see Mr. Harris, for he was the minister.
Just behind the schoolhouse was Mr. Finney's barn.
Many years after that, some funny little verses about Mr. Finney's turnip were printed in a newspaper.
Mr. Finney had a turnip, And it grew, and it grew; It grew behind the barn, And the turnip did no harm.
Mr. Finney and his wife Both sat down to sup; And they ate, and they ate, They ate the turnip up.
About an hour later, a well-dressed gentleman came into the hotel and said, "I wish to see Mr. Jefferson."
"Mr. Jefferson!" said the landlord.
"That was Mr. Jefferson," said the gentleman.
"Mr. Jefferson!" cried the landlord.
"Mr. Jefferson," he said, "I have come to ask your pardon.
"No," answered Mr. Jefferson.
It's from Mr. Boyle.
Now, Mr. Boyle was a sporting neighbor who spent a good deal of time in shooting.
"Here's a rabbit from Mr. Boyle," said the man.
The door was opened by the man from Mr. Boyle's.
One was Mr. Webster's horse; the other was an old gray nag with a lady's sidesaddle on its back.
Mr. Webster rode in front, and Daniel, on the old gray nag, followed behind.
"What will the punishment be, Mr. Johnson?" asked a bold, bad boy.
As he was starting away, the friendly innkeeper said, "Which way will you travel, Mr. Randolph?"
"Mr. Randolph," answered the innkeeper, "you have paid your bill and don't owe me a cent.
My car was burned out, but Mr. Giddon found my purse.
Mr. Marsh was the undisputed king of the castle, but he obviously acknowledged his wife as the queen.
Like her parents, Mr. & Mrs. Marsh had the kind of marriage she would like to have some day – happy.
Unable to locate him, Cassie had finally agreed to leave the twins with Mr. & Mrs. Hertz, their neighbors.
For the next week Cynthia listened to - and even found herself instigating - discussions about Mr. Cade.
The newly christened Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Gustefson were finally merged into one apartment and blissfully drifting back to a day to day routine.
Mr. Cooms moved fast, and so did we.
The following day, Mr. Rupert Youngblood gained more notoriety, appearing on a national television morning show.
"Yes, why should we?" said Mr. Speed.
But Mr. Lincoln could climb.
As bad luck would have it, Mr. Randolph took the wrong road.
This is the story which Mr. Defoe wrote.
"You are a brave fellow, Mr. Ant," he said; "but you have a heavy load to carry."
"Oh, certainly!" said Mr. Johnson.
When they reached Mr. Johnson's house, the old man politely handed him the turkey and turned to go.
Young Mr. Johnson looked after him and wondered.
Among the many friends I made in Boston were Mr. William Endicott and his daughter.
Mr. Endicott told me about the great ships that came sailing by from Boston, bound for Europe.
A little story called "The Frost King," which I wrote and sent to Mr. Anagnos, of the Perkins Institution for the Blind, was at the root of the trouble.
I spoke up and said, "Oh, no, it is my story, and I have written it for Mr. Anagnos."
Mr. Anagnos was delighted with "The Frost King," and published it in one of the Perkins Institution reports.
At first Mr. Anagnos, though deeply troubled, seemed to believe me.
Something I said made her think she detected in my words a confession that I did remember Miss Canby's story of "The Frost Fairies," and she laid her conclusions before Mr. Anagnos, although I had told her most emphatically that she was mistaken.
I find in one of them, a letter to Mr. Anagnos, dated September 29, 1891, words and sentiments exactly like those of the book.
Mr. Anagnos, in speaking of my composition on the cities, has said, "These ideas are poetic in their essence."
My only regret is that it resulted in the loss of one of my dearest friends, Mr. Anagnos.
Since the publication of "The Story of My Life" in the Ladies' Home Journal, Mr. Anagnos has made a statement, in a letter to Mr. Macy, that at the time of the "Frost King" matter, he believed I was innocent.
Mr. Anagnos states that he cast his vote with those who were favourable to me.
Mr. Higinbotham, President of the World's Fair, kindly gave me permission to touch the exhibits, and with an eagerness as insatiable as that with which Pizarro seized the treasures of Peru, I took in the glories of the Fair with my fingers.
Miss Sullivan and I were at that time in Hulton, Pennsylvania, visiting the family of Mr. William Wade.
Mr. Irons, a neighbour of theirs, was a good Latin scholar; it was arranged that I should study under him.
Mr. Irons also read with me Tennyson's "In Memoriam."
Miss Sullivan sat beside me at my lessons, spelling into my hand whatever Mr. Irons said, and looking up new words for me.
Mr. John P. Spaulding, of Boston, died in February, 1896.
Mr. Gilman instructed me part of the year in English literature.
I lived with several others in one of the pleasant houses connected with the school, the house where Mr. Howells used to live, and we all had the advantage of home life.
Mr. Gilman read all the papers to me by means of the manual alphabet.
Mr. Gilman sat beside me and read the paper through first, then sentence by sentence, while I repeated the words aloud, to make sure that I understood him perfectly.
Mr. Gilman spelled to me what I had written, and I made such changes as I thought necessary, and he inserted them.
In the finals, no one read my work over to me, and in the preliminaries I offered subjects with some of which I was in a measure familiar before my work in the Cambridge school; for at the beginning of the year I had passed examinations in English, History, French and German, which Mr. Gilman gave me from previous Harvard papers.
Mr. Gilman sent my written work to the examiners with a certificate that I, candidate No. 233, had written the papers.
Mr. Gilman had agreed that that year I should study mathematics principally.
It was not until Mr. Keith taught me that I had a clear idea of mathematics.
Just before the books came, Mr. Gilman had begun to remonstrate with Miss Sullivan on the ground that I was working too hard, and in spite of my earnest protestations, he reduced the number of my recitations.
Mr. Gilman at first agreed to this; but when my tasks had become somewhat perplexing, he insisted that I was overworked, and that I should remain at his school three years longer.
In the end the difference of opinion between Mr. Gilman and Miss Sullivan resulted in my mother's withdrawing my sister Mildred and me from the Cambridge school.
From February to July, 1898, Mr. Keith came out to Wrentham twice a week, and taught me algebra, geometry, Greek and Latin.
For eight months Mr. Keith gave me lessons five times a week, in periods of about an hour.
The college authorities did not allow Miss Sullivan to read the examination papers to me; so Mr. Eugene C. Vining, one of the instructors at the Perkins Institution for the Blind, was employed to copy the papers for me in American braille.
Mr. Vining was a stranger to me, and could not communicate with me, except by writing braille.
Two days before the examinations, Mr. Vining sent me a braille copy of one of the old Harvard papers in algebra.
I sat down immediately and wrote to Mr. Vining, asking him to explain the signs.
Both Mr. Keith and I were distressed and full of forebodings for the morrow; but we went over to the college a little before the examination began, and had Mr. Vining explain more fully the American symbols.
Before I entered college, however, it was thought best that I should study another year under Mr. Keith.
Mr. Chamberlin initiated me into the mysteries of tree and wild-flower, until with the little ear of love I heard the flow of sap in the oak, and saw the sun glint from leaf to leaf.
I also know Mr. Jefferson.
Mr. Jefferson's, beautiful, pathetic representation quite carried me away with delight.
Mr. Jefferson let me touch his face so that I could imagine how he looked on waking from that strange sleep of twenty years, and he showed me how poor old Rip staggered to his feet.
Mr. Jefferson recited the best dialogues of "Rip Van Winkle," in which the tear came close upon the smile.
I knew Mr. Henry Drummond, and the memory of his strong, warm hand-clasp is like a benediction.
Most of them I met first in the house of my good friend, Mr. Laurence Hutton.
Mr. Hutton introduced me to many of his literary friends, greatest of whom are Mr. William Dean Howells and Mark Twain.
I also met Mr. Richard Watson Gilder and Mr. Edmund Clarence Stedman.
I also knew Mr. Charles Dudley Warner, the most delightful of story-tellers and the most beloved friend, whose sympathy was so broad that it may be truly said of him, he loved all living things and his neighbour as himself.
Once Mr. Warner brought to see me the dear poet of the woodlands--Mr.
I and teacher did go to church sunday mr. lane did read in book and talk Lady did play organ.
I will hug and kiss little blind girls mr. anagnos will come to see me.
I hope Mr. Anagnos is coming to see me soon.
I went to see Robert and Mr. Graves and Mrs. Graves and little Natalie, and Mr. Farris and Mr. Mayo and Mary and everyone.
I found box of candy in Mr. Grave's pocket.
"Uncle Morrie" of the next letter is Mr. Morrison Heady, of Normandy, Kentucky, who lost his sight and hearing when he was a boy.
Mr. Anagnos is coming to see me Monday.
Mr. Anagnos did see oranges, they look like golden apples.
I will come to Memphis again to see Mr. Farris and Mrs. Graves and Mr. Mayo and Mr. Graves.
We came to Boston last Thursday, and Mr. Anagnos was delighted to see me, and he hugged and kissed me.
I was born in America, and Mr. Anagnos was born in Greece.
Mr. Drew says little girls in China cannot talk on their fingers but I think when I go to China I will teach them.
Mother and teacher and Mrs. Hopkins and Mr. Anagnos and Mr. Rodocanachi and many other friends went to Plymouth to see many old things.
My Dear Mr. Anagnos:--You cannot imagine how delighted I was to receive a letter from you last evening.
Do not forget to give my love to Miss Calliope Kehayia and Mr. Francis Demetrios Kalopothakes.
My Dear Mr. Wade:--I have just received a letter from my mother, telling me that the beautiful mastiff puppy you sent me had arrived in Tuscumbia safely.
To Mr. John Greenleaf Whittier.
Mr. Wade wants teacher and me to come and see him next spring.
Mr. Wilson came to call on us one Thursday.
Mr. and Miss Endicott came to see me, and I went to ride in the carriage.
Mr. Anagnos is in Athens now.
My dear Mr. Hale: The beautiful shells came last night.
I was delighted to get there, though I was much disappointed because we did not arrive on Mr. Anagnos' birthday.
After we had had some breakfast we went up to see Mr. Anagnos.
I have only seen Mr. Anagnos twice.
My Dear Friend, Mr. Krehl:--I have just heard, through Mr. Wade, of your kind offer to buy me a gentle dog, and I want to thank you for the kind thought.
My Dear Mr. Brooks: Helen sends you a loving greeting this bright May-day.
I cannot begin to tell you how delighted I was when Mr. Anagnos told me that you had sent him some money to help educate "Baby Tom."
My dear Mr. Munsell, Surely I need not tell you that your letter was very welcome.
TO MR. JOHN P. SPAULDING South Boston, May 11th, 1892.
TO MR. JOHN HITZ Tuscumbia, Alabama, Dec. 19, 1892.
It is because my books are full of the riches of which Mr. Ruskin speaks that I love them so dearly.
I want to write to Mr. Bell and send him my picture.
Then I shall see you, and dear Mr. Bell, and Elsie and Daisy again!
TO MRS. KATE ADAMS KELLER South Boston, April 13, 1893. ...Teacher, Mrs. Pratt and I very unexpectedly decided to take a journey with dear Dr. Bell Mr. Westervelt, a gentleman whom father met in Washington, has a school for the deaf in Rochester.
Mr. Westervelt gave us a reception one afternoon.
Mr. Bell and I planned it together, and Mr. Bell made all the arrangements before we told teacher anything about it.
Mr. Munsell spent last Sunday evening with us.
I hope when I visit Venice, as I surely shall some day, that Mr. Munsell will go with me.
Her visit to the World's Fair she described in a letter to Mr. John P. Spaulding, which was published in St. Nicholas, and is much like the following letter.
TO MRS. KATE ADAMS KELLER New York, March 31, 1895. ...Teacher and I spent the afternoon at Mr. Hutton's, and had a most delightful time!...
We met Mr. Clemens and Mr. Howells there!
Mr. Clemens told us many entertaining stories, and made us laugh till we cried.
We also met Mr. Rogers... who kindly left his carriage to bring us home.
Mr. Wade is just as dear and good as ever!
We also met Mr. and Mrs. Terry, Miss Terry's brother and his wife.
The next two letters were written just after the death of Mr. John P. Spaulding.
Almost two weeks ago we called at Mr. Hutton's and had a delightful time.
We met Mr. Warner, the writer, Mr. Mabie, the editor of the Outlook and other pleasant people.
I am sure you would like to know Mr. and Mrs. Hutton, they are so kind and interesting.
Mr. Warner and Mr. Burroughs, the great lover of nature, came to see us a few days after, and we had a delightful talk with them.
Mr. Burroughs told me about his home near the Hudson, and what a happy place it must be!
TO MR. JOHN HITZ Brewster, Mass.
We only need you, dear Mr. Hitz, to complete our happiness.
Mr. Howes has probably given you a full account of our doings.
We visited our good friends, Mr. and Mrs. Chamberlin, at Wrentham, out in the country, where they have a lovely home.
Mr. and Mrs. Chamberlin celebrated the 17th of June by giving a picnic to their literary friends.
Our friend, Mr. Alden, the editor of Harper's was there, and of course we enjoyed his society very much....
On the first of October Miss Keller entered the Cambridge School for Young Ladies, of which Mr. Arthur Gilman is Principal.
You must tell Mr. Howells when you see him, that we are living in his house....
TO MR. JOHN HITZ Wrentham, Mass.
I think you remember Mr. Chamberlin, the "Listener" in the Boston Transcript.
Then the interference of Mr. Gilman resulted in Mrs. Keller's withdrawing Miss Helen and her sister, Miss Mildred, from the school.
I find I get on faster, and do better work with Mr. Keith than I did in the classes at the Cambridge School, and I think it was well that I gave up that kind of work.
December 22,  ...I suppose Mr. Keith writes you the work-a-day news.
I think Mr. Keith is a wonderful teacher, and I feel very grateful to him for having made me see the beauty of Mathematics.
TO MR. JOHN HITZ 12 Newbury Street, Boston, February 3, 1899. ...I had an exceedingly interesting experience last Monday.
TO MR. WILLIAM WADE Boston, February 19th, 1899.
I have just had some pictures taken, and if they are good, I would like to send one to Mr. Rogers, if you think he would like to have it.
We are all so glad and thankful that Mr. Kipling did not die!
TO MR. WILLIAM WADE Wrentham, Mass., June 5, 1899. ...Linnie Haguewood's letter, which you sent me some weeks ago, interested me very much.
The college authorities would not permit Miss Sullivan to read the examination papers to me; so Mr. Eugene C. Vining, one of the instructors at the Perkins Institution for the Blind, was employed to copy the papers for me in braille.
Mr. Vining was a perfect stranger to me, and could not communicate with me except by writing in braille.
Now there is one more fact, which I wish to state very plainly, in regard to what Mr. Gilman wrote to you.
Mr. Keith comes every afternoon at four o'clock, and gives me a "friendly lift" over the rough stretches of road, over which every student must go.
After the service he asked Mr. Warren, the organist to play for me.
TO MR. JOHN HITZ 138 Brattle Street, Cambridge, Feb. 3, 1900. ...My studies are more interesting than ever.
TO MR. JOHN HITZ 14 Coolidge Ave., Cambridge, Nov. 26, 1900. ...--has already communicated with you in regard to her and my plan of establishing an institution for deaf and blind children.
I considered this suggestion carefully, then I told Mr. Rhoades that I should be proud and glad to have wise friends to whom I could always turn for advice in all important matters.
They have also written to Mr. Hitz about her.
TO MR. CHARLES T. COPELAND December 20, 1900.
TO MR. WILLIAM WADE Cambridge, February 2, 1901. ...By the way, have you any specimens of English braille especially printed for those who have lost their sight late in life or have fingers hardened by long toil, so that their touch is less sensitive than that of other blind people?
Her good friend, Mr. William Wade, had a complete braille copy made for her from the magazine proofs.
Mr. Joseph Jefferson was once explaining to Miss Keller what the bumps on her head meant.
Both Mr. Gilman and Mr. Keith, the teachers who prepared her for college, were struck by her power of constructive reasoning; and she was excellent in pure mathematics, though she seems never to have enjoyed it much.
When she first wrote from Tuscumbia to Mr. Michael Anagnos, Dr. Howes son-in-law and his successor as Director of the Perkins Institution, about her work with her pupil, the Boston papers began at once to publish exaggerated accounts of Helen Keller.
For this report Miss Sullivan prepared, in reluctant compliance with the request of Mr. Anagnos, an account of her work.
Mr. Anagnos was delighted with it.
As Mr. Anagnos was the head of a great institution, what he said had much more effect than the facts in Miss Sullivan's account on which he based his statements.
The newspapers caught Mr. Anagnos's spirit and exaggerated a hundred-fold.
Teachers of the deaf proved a priori that what Miss Sullivan had done could not be, and some discredit was reflected on her statements, because they were surrounded by the vague eloquence of Mr. Anagnos.
When Captain Keller applied to the director for a teacher, Mr. Anagnos recommended her.
The impression that Miss Sullivan educated Helen Keller "under the direction of Mr. Anagnos" is erroneous.
Mr. Anagnos wrote in the report of the Perkins Institution, dated November 27, 1888: At my urgent request, Helen, accompanied by her mother and her teacher, came to the North in the last week of May, and spent several months with us as our guests....
I found Mrs. Keller and Mr. James Keller waiting for me.
It seems that Mr. Anagnos had heard of Helen before he received Captain Keller's letter last summer.
Mr. Wilson, a teacher at Florence, and a friend of the Kellers', studied at Harvard the summer before and went to the Perkins Institution to learn if anything could be done for his friend's child.
Doesn't it seem strange that Mr. Anagnos never referred to this interview?
Please give my kind regards to Mr. Anagnos and let him see my letter, if you think best.
I am glad Mr. Anagnos thinks so highly of me as a teacher.
He agreed with Mr. Anagnos that it was my duty to give others the benefit of my experience.
It's Mr. Anagnos's property until it is published.
Helen wrote another letter to the little girls yesterday, and her father sent it to Mr. Anagnos.
I had two letters from Mr. Anagnos last week.
About this time I sent a list of the words she knew to Mr. Anagnos, and he very kindly had them printed for her.
I appreciate the kind things Mr. Anagnos has said about Helen and me; but his extravagant way of saying them rubs me the wrong way.
Mr. Mayo went to Duckhill and brought home many sweet flowers.
Mr. Mayo and Mr. Farris and Mr. Graves love me and Teacher.
Dr. Keller distributed the extracts from the report that Mr. Anagnos sent me, and he could have disposed of a thousand if he had had them.
We lunched with Mr. Thayer (your former pastor) and his wife.
One day, while she was out walking with her mother and Mr. Anagnos, a boy threw a torpedo, which startled Mrs. Keller.
Mr. Anagnos came to see me Thursday.
Mr. Wilson and Mr. Mitchell came to see us Sunday.
Mr. Anagnos went to Louisville Monday to see little blind children.
I saw Mr. Wilson and James row with oars.
During the next two years neither Mr. Anagnos, who was in Europe for a year, nor Miss Sullivan wrote anything about Helen Keller for publication.
These extracts Mr. Anagnos took from Miss Sullivan's notes and memoranda.
"Oh, yes!" she replied; "because last hour I was thinking very hard of Mr. Anagnos, and then my mind,"--then changing the word--"my soul was in Athens, but my body was here in the study."
At this moment another thought seemed to flash through her mind, and she added, "But Mr. Anagnos did not speak to my soul."
Her friend, Mr. John Hitz, whose native tongue is German, says that her pronunciation is excellent.
As we had never seen or heard of any such story as this before, we inquired of her where she read it; she replied, "I did not read it; it is my story for Mr. Anagnos's birthday."
Helen wrote a little letter, and, enclosing the manuscript, forwarded both by mail to Mr. Anagnos for his birthday.
I give below a portion of Miss Canby's story, "The Rose Fairies," and also Helen's letter to Mr. Anagnos containing her "dream," so that the likenesses and differences may be studied by those interested in the subject:
Mr. Anagnos is much troubled.
The following letter from Mr. Anagnos is reprinted from the American Annals of the Deaf, April, 1892:
Mr. Balcom, a promising young architect, designs it on the back of his Vitruvius, with hard pencil and ruler, and the job is let out to Dobson & Sons, stonecutters.
This was one field not in Mr. Coleman's report.
It comes on apace; my sumachs and sweetbriers tremble.--Eh, Mr. Poet, is it you?
Mr. Pitt, as a traitor to the nation and to the rights of man, is sentenced to...
And tell Mr. Dolokhov that I won't forget him--he may be quite easy.
"You were saying, Mr. Staff Officer..." continued the colonel in an offended tone.
"Mr. Dimmler, please play my favorite nocturne by Field," came the old countess' voice from the drawing room.
Well, Mr. Hussar, and what regiment do you serve in? she asked Natasha.
Mr. Giddon is either on an extended vacation or he doesn't have a job.
Mr. Marsh stared at her, his expression unreadable.
Mr. Marsh glared at her for a moment, and then his gaze slowly warmed.
Mr. Reynolds was indifferent to the subject.