Thyrza, too, had something to speak of, but could not bring herself to it as yet.
Though it was so hot, they had to keep a small fire for cooking the dinner.

This meal consisted of a small piece of steak, chosen from the odds and ends thrown together on the front of a butcher's shop, and a few potatoes.

It was not always they had meat; yet they never went hungry, and, in comparing herself with others she knew, it sometimes made Lydia a little unhappy to think how well she lived.
Then began the unutterable dreariness of a Sunday afternoon.

From the lower part of the house sounded the notes of a concertina; it was Mr.
Jarmey who played.

He had the habit of doing so whilst half asleep, between dinner and tea.