Duty! I hate the word.' And Rose took up a fir-cone lying near and threw it at the nose of the collie, who made a jump at it, and then resumed an attitude of blinking and dignified protest against his mistress's follies.
Agnes again studied her sister.

'What's the matter with you, Rose ?' 'The usual thing, my dear,' replied Rose, curtly, 'only more so.

I had a letter this morning from Carry Ford--the daughter you know, of those nice people I stayed in Manchester with last year.

Well, she wants me to go and stay the winter with them and study under a first-rate man, Franzen, who is to be in Manchester two days a week during the winter.
I haven't said a word about it--what's the use?
I know all Catherine's arguments by heart.

Manchester is not Whindale, and papa wished us to live in Whindale; I am not somebody else and needn't earn my bread; and art is not religion; and--' 'Wheels!' exclaimed Agnes.