She had had her moments.

Meanwhile, the great clock on the landing ticked and Sandra would hear time accumulating, and ask herself, "What for?
What for ?" "What for?
What for ?" Sandra would say, putting the book back, and strolling to the looking-glass and pressing her hair.

And Miss Edwards would be startled at dinner, as she opened her mouth to admit roast mutton, by Sandra's sudden solicitude: "Are you happy, Miss Edwards ?"--a thing Cissy Edwards hadn't thought of for years.
"What for?
What for ?" Jacob never asked himself any such questions, to judge by the way he laced his boots; shaved himself; to judge by the depth of his sleep that night, with the wind fidgeting at the shutters, and half-a-dozen mosquitoes singing in his ears.

He was young--a man.
And then Sandra was right when she judged him to be credulous as yet.

At forty it might be a different matter.