I much prefer to air them by expression and complaint.

About noon it strikes me that, _faute de mieux_, I will go and see Mrs.Huntley, tell her _suddenly_ that Roger is not coming back, and see if she looks vexed or confused or grieved.

Accordingly, soon after luncheon, I set off in the pony-carriage.

It is a quiet sultry-looking unclouded day.

One uniform livery of mist clothes sky and earth, dimming the glories of the dying leaves, and making them look dull and sodden.