Virginia is starving, _must_ be starving.

Poor creature! I can never forget how her eyes shone when I put that joint of meat before her.' 'I do, do wish,' sighed Miss Barfoot, with a pained smile, 'that I knew some honest man who would be likely to fall in love with little Monica! In spite of you, my dear, I would devote myself to making the match.
But there's no one.' 'Oh, I would help,' laughed Rhoda, not unkindly.

'She's fit for nothing else, I'm afraid.

We mustn't look for any kind of heroism in Monica.' Less than half an hour after Miss Barfoot had left the house at Lavender Hill, Mildred Vesper made a call there.

It was about half-past nine; the invalid, after sitting up since midday, had gone to bed, but could not sleep.