Sink or Swim? , Volume III

As he opened the box-door, a ray of reason -- there is often on such occasions something sobering in the mere presence of strangers -- threw a composing light over John Beacham's troubled brain. He was not, as we already know, a man who loved excitement and "went in" for sensation; on the contrary, his country habits and his rather matter-of-fact nature unfitted him for taking part in any emotional scene, of what kind soever it might be.

Entering the box, he took off his hat with instinctive politeness; but that duty performed, he laid his hand -- it was as we know an honest one, but heavy enough withal -- on Honor's snowy shoulder. What followed was the work almost of moments; but rapid though it was, the scene remained engraved on Honor's memory for ever. As the iron fingers pressed into the delicate flesh -- he could not guess, poor man, that her _first_ feeling when he entered had been one of gladness -- she uttered a sharp cry of pain, and cast an appealing glance -- for John's wild looks and violent action frightened her -- at Arthur.