In this omission the narrative has but followed the hasty, half-conscious gaps and slurs of the girl's own thought.

For Marcella never thought of those holidays and all that was connected with them _in detail_, if she could possibly avoid it.

But it was with them, in truth, and with what they implied, that she was so irritably anxious to be done when she first began to be reflective by the window; and it was to them she returned with vague, but still intense consciousness when the rush of active reminiscence died away.
* * * * * That surely was the breakfast bell ringing, and with the dignified ancestral sound which was still so novel and attractive to Marcella's ear.

Recalled to Mellor Park and its circumstances, she went thoughtfully downstairs, pondering a little on the shallow steps of the beautiful Jacobean staircase.

_Could_ she ever turn her back upon those holidays?
Was she not rather, so to speak, just embarked upon their sequel, or second volume?
But let us go downstairs also..