Totty seemed dull.

She did not run up the stairs as usual, but walked with a tired step.
Lydia, following her, broke her habit, and spoke.
'Thyrza isn't at all well.' 'Isn't she ?' said the other, without turning her head, and in a tone of little interest.
Lydia bit her lip, vexed that she had said anything.
They came into the work-room.

There were a number of tables, at which girls and women were beginning to seat themselves.

A portion of the room was divided off by a glass partition, and within the little office thus formed sat the fore-woman, surrounded with felt hats, some finished, some waiting for the needle to line them and put the band on.
Sitting here, she overlooked the workers, some fifty when all were assembled.
There was much buzzing and tittering and laughing aloud.

All belonged to the class of needlewomen who preserve appearances; many of them were becomingly dressed, and none betrayed extreme poverty.