She admired Hortense's clothes, but distrusted her advances.
She buried herself even more deeply in the paper.

Poor Mary Kitson, alas! found that, in some undefinable manner, the glory had departed from her dolls.

Adrian and Emily were, of a sudden, glassy and lumpy abstractions of sawdust and china.

Very timidly she raised her large, stupid eyes and regarded Sarah.

Sarah returned the glance and smiled.
Then she came close to Mary.
"It's better under there," she said, pointing to the shade of a friendly tree.
"May I ?" Mary said to her nurse with a frightened gasp.
"Well, now, don't you go far," said the nurse, with a fierce look at Hortense.
"You like where you are ?" asked Hortense, smiling more than ever.