Years ago, Mrs.Hood had not lacked interest in certain kinds of reading, but the miseries of her life had killed all that; the need of mechanical exertion was constantly upon her; an automatic conscience refused to allow her repose.

When she heard Emily entering by the front door, a sickly smile fixed itself upon her lips, and with this she silently greeted the girl.
'It is too bad of me, mother,' Emily said, trying to assume playfulness, which contrasted strangely with an almost haggard weariness on her face.
'You will give me up as hopeless; I will promise, like the children, that it shall never happen again.' 'It is your holiday, my dear,' was the reply, as Mrs.Hood went to stir the fire.

'You must amuse yourself in your own way.' 'Of course you have had tea.

I really want nothing till supper-time.' 'It was not worth while to make tea for one,' said her mother, with a sigh.
'And you have had none?
Then I will make it this minute.

When will father be home ?' 'It is quite uncertain.