The minutes were a torture to her.
"H'm!" said Morel.

"It's an hour an' a ha'ef." "And those children waiting!" she said.
"Th' train canna ha' come in yet," he said.
"I tell you, on Christmas Eve they're HOURS wrong." They were both a bit cross with each other, so gnawed with anxiety.

The ash tree moaned outside in a cold, raw wind.

And all that space of night from London home! Mrs.Morel suffered.

The slight click of the works inside the clock irritated her.