It is a sore point, canon," said Miss Crewys.

"In my opinion, it is all this modern drainage that sets up typhoid fever, and nothing else." "Bless me!" said the canon.
"Our poor Mary has grown so dependent on John, however, that she will hear nothing against him.

One has to mind one's p's and q's," said Lady Belstone.
"He planned the alterations in this very hall," said Miss Crewys, "and the only excuse he offered, so far as I could understand, was that it would amuse poor Mary to carry them out." "Does a widow wish to be amused ?" said Lady Belstone, indignantly.
"And was she amused, dear lady ?" asked the canon, anxiously.
"When she saw our horror and dismay she smiled." "Did you call that a smile, Georgina?
I called it a laugh.

It takes almost nothing to make her laugh nowadays." "You would not wish her to be too melancholy," said the canon, almost pleadingly; "one so--so charming, so--" "Canon Birch," said Lady Belstone, in awful tones, "she is a widow." The canon was silent, displaying an embarrassment which did not escape the vigilant observation of the sisters, who exchanged a meaning glance.
"Well may you remind us of the fact, Isabella," said Miss Crewys, "for she has discarded the last semblance of mourning." "Time flies so fast," said the canon, as though impelled to defend the absent.

"It is--getting on for three years since poor Sir Timothy died." "It is but two years and four months," said Miss Crewys.
"It is thirty-three years since the admiral went aloft," said Lady Belstone, who often became slightly nautical in phrase when alluding to her departed husband; "and look at me." The pocket-handkerchief she held up was deeply bordered with ink.
Orthodox streamers floated on either side her severe countenance.
The canon looked and shook his head.