It was quite an unprecedented state of things, and Polly found it disagreeable.
There was only one consolation, and that a poor one.

She had received a letter from Christopher Parish, a letter of abject remonstrance and entreaty.

He grovelled at her feet.

He talked frantically of poison and the river.

If she would but meet him and hear him in his own defence! And Polly quite meaning to do so, gave herself the pleasure of appearing obdurate for a couple of days.
At the theatre she examined every row of spectators in stalls and dress-circle, having he own reason for thinking that she might discover certain face.