She could not speak another angry word.
'Thyrza, take your hat off,' she said quietly, moving away a little from the door.

Her cheeks burned, and she quivered in the subsidence of her temper.
Her sister did not obey, but, unable to stand longer, she went to a chair at a distance.

The uproar in the street continued for a quarter of an hour, then by degrees passed on, the voice of the woman shrieking foul abuse till remoteness stifled it.

Lydia forced herself to keep silence from good or ill; it was no use speaking the thoughts she had till morning.

Thyrza sat with her eyes fixed on vacancy; she was so miserable, her heart had sunk so low, that tears would have come had she not forced them back.