There was a suspicion of needless sound as the door closed behind her.
Constance sat for a minute or two in a very rigid attitude, displeasure manifest on her lips.

She did not find it easy to get to work again, and when the time came for her bicycle ride, she was in no mind for it, but preferred to sit over a book.

At luncheon Lady Ogram inclined to silence.

Later in the day, however, they met on the ordinary terms of mutual understanding, and Constance, after speaking of other things, asked whether she should write Lady Ogram's reply to Mr.Lashmar.
"Mr.Lashmar?
Oh, I have written to him myself," said the old lady, as if speaking of a matter without importance.
Three days went by, and it was Saturday.

Lady Ogram came down earlier than usual this morning, but did not know how to occupy herself; she fretted at the rainy sky which kept her within doors; she tried to talk with her secretary of an important correspondence they had in hand (it related to a projected society for the invigoration of village life), but her thoughts were too obviously wandering.