She was a well-developed girl, and very handsome.

But in the little looking-glass nailed against the whitewashed wall she could only see a fragment of herself at a time.

Agatha had bought a little mirror of her own, which she propped up to suit herself.
Miriam was near the window.

Suddenly she heard the well-known click of the chain, and she saw Paul fling open the gate, push his bicycle into the yard.

She saw him look at the house, and she shrank away.