“It’s okay. “Lord!” she said. ” “I do want to tell you things, nevertheless. What might it have been?’ Mrs Sindlesham shook her head helplessly. One can't help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object. She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection. Several people in the crowd seemed to be fighting. Throwing down the pencil, she snatched up a piece of India-rubber, and exclaiming,—"It isn't at all like him! it isn't half handsome enough!" was about to efface the sketch, when Thames darted into the room.
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