You mark my words: I'll be even with him." That old Toller--the most exasperating of men, judged by a quick temper--had irritated my friend into speaking rashly was plain enough.
Nevertheless, I felt some anxiety (jealous anxiety, I am afraid) about Cristel.

After looking round the kitchen again, I asked where she was.
"Sitting forlorn in her bedroom, crying," her father told me.

"I went out for a walk by the river, and I sat down, and (being Sunday) I fell asleep.

When I woke, and got home again just now, that was how I found her.

I don't like to hear my girl crying; she's as good as gold and better.