"Who is ill ?" Cornelia brought Freshfield to a stop: "Ill ?" Before them all, book in hand, Mr.Barrett had to give assurance that he was hearty, and to appear to think that his words were accepted, in spite of blanched jowl and reddened under-lid.

Cornelia threw him one glance: his eyes closed under it.

Adela found it necessary to address some such comforting exclamation as 'Goodness gracious!' to her observant spirit.
In the park-path, leading to the wood, Arabella was seen as they came out the young branches that fringed the firs.

She hurried up.
"I have been looking for you.

Papa has arrived with Sir Twickenham Pryme, who dines with us." Adela unhesitatingly struck a blow.
"Lady Pryme, we make place for you." And she crossed to Cornelia.