Philip had not warmed up at the question, and had given rather a dry catalogue of her features, hair, and height, but Hester, almost to her own surprise, persevered, and jerked out the final question.
'Is she pretty ?' Philip's sallow cheek grew deeper by two or three shades; but he answered with a tone of indifference,-- 'I believe some folks think her so.' 'But do you ?' persevered Hester, in spite of her being aware that he somehow disliked the question.
'There's no need for talking o' such things,' he answered, with abrupt displeasure.
Hester silenced her curiosity from that time.

But her heart was not quite at ease, and she kept on wondering whether Philip thought his little cousin pretty until she saw her and him together, on that occasion of which we have spoken, when Sylvia came to the shop to buy her new cloak; and after that Hester never wondered whether Philip thought his cousin pretty or no, for she knew quite well.
Bell Robson had her own anxieties on the subject of her daughter's increasing attractions.

She apprehended the dangers consequent upon certain facts, by a mental process more akin to intuition than reason.

She was uncomfortable, even while her motherly vanity was flattered, at the admiration Sylvia received from the other sex.
This admiration was made evident to her mother in many ways.

When Sylvia was with her at market, it might have been thought that the doctors had prescribed a diet of butter and eggs to all the men under forty in Monkshaven.