At half-past eleven, when two of the other five girls who slept in the room made their appearance, she was still changing uneasily from side to side.
They lit the gas (it was not turned off till midnight, after which hour the late arrivals had to use a candle of their own procuring), and began a lively conversation on the events of the day.

Afraid of being obliged to talk, Monica feigned sleep.
At twelve, just as the gas went out, another pair came to repose.

They had been quarrelling, and were very gloomy.

After a long and acrimonious discussion in the dark as to which of them should find a candle--it ended in one of the girls who was in bed impatiently supplying a light--they began sullenly to throw off their garments.
'Is Miss Madden awake ?' said one of them, looking in Monica's direction.
There was no reply.
'She's picked up some feller to-day,' continued the speaker, lowering her voice, and glancing round at her companions with a grin.

'Or else she's had him all along--I shouldn't wonder.' Heads were put forward eagerly, and inquiries whispered.
'He's oldish, I should say.