She asked herself whether he really believed any harm of her.

It looked very much as if he did, and the thought sometimes kept her awake for fully a quarter of an hour.
It was the last day but one of her week.

To-morrow she must either submit to the degradation of begging Mrs.Bubb's leave to remain, or pack her boxes and have them removed before nightfall.

Worry had ended by giving her a slight headache, a very rare thing indeed.

Moreover, it rained, and breakfast was only obtainable by walking some distance.
"Oh, the beasts!" Polly exclaimed to herself, as she pulled on her boots, meaning the inhabitants of the house all together.
Mr.Gammon opened his door and shouted down the staircase.
"Moggie! Fry me three eggs this morning with the bacon--do you hear ?" Three eggs! Fried with bacon! And all comfortably set out at the end of the kitchen table.