He said: 'Is it your mistress's habit to make faces in the looking-glass ?' 'I'll tell you how it happened,' said Polly.

'But I'm afraid I'm in your way, sir.

Shall I get off now ?' 'Not by any means,' said Evan.

'Make your arm tighter.' 'Will that do ?' asked Polly.
Evan looked round and met her appealing face, over which the damp locks of hair straggled.

The maid was fair: it was fortunate that he was thinking of the mistress.
'Speak on,' said Evan, but Polly put the question whether her face did not want washing, and so earnestly that he had to regard it again, and compromised the case by saying that it wanted kissing by Nicholas Frim, which set Polly's lips in a pout.
'I 'm sure it wants kissing by nobody,' she said, adding with a spasm of passion: 'Oh! I know the colours of my bonnet are all smeared over it, and I'm a dreadful fright.' Evan failed to adopt the proper measures to make Miss Wheedle's mind easy with regard to her appearance, and she commenced her story rather languidly.
'My Miss Rose--what was it I was going to tell?
Oh!--my Miss Rose.