She did, indeed, start. And she caught his wrist with both her hands.

“Pray,” said Mr. Lorry, in a soothing tone, bringing his left hand from the back of the chair to lay it on the supplicatory fingers that clasped him in so violent a tremble: “pray control your agitation⁠—a matter of business. As I was saying⁠—”

Her look so discomposed him that he stopped, wandered, and began anew: