One of those gleams had shone propitiously, and had lighted her out of the room.
Miss Minerva took a chair: she dropped into it like a person worn out with fatigue.

Carmina spoke to her gently.

Words of sympathy were thrown away on that self-tormenting nature.
"No; I'm not ill," she said.

"A night without sleep; a perverse child to teach in the morning; and a detestable temper at all times--that's what is the matter with me." She looked at Carmina.

"You seem to be wonderfully better to-day.