And when it came to her turn to go out, nine times out of ten she quietly put on her bonnet, and had her turn by herself.

She never quarrelled, she never took offence; she only kept a certain distance, obstinately and civilly, between the rest of them and herself.

Add to this that, plain as she was, there was just a dash of something that wasn't like a housemaid, and that WAS like a lady, about her.

It might have been in her voice, or it might have been in her face.
All I can say is, that the other women pounced on it like lightning the first day she came into the house, and said (which was most unjust) that Rosanna Spearman gave herself airs.
Having now told the story of Rosanna, I have only to notice one of the many queer ways of this strange girl to get on next to the story of the sands.
Our house is high up on the Yorkshire coast, and close by the sea.

We have got beautiful walks all round us, in every direction but one.