Pray make haste--I am in no mood for talking." Sybilla's swift, deft fingers disrobed the moody lady, loosened the elaborate structure of hair, brushed it out, and all the while she sat frowning angrily at the fire.
"There was a young lady at the hall--a Miss Hunsden," she said, at last, breaking out in spite of herself--"and the exhibition she made was perfectly disgraceful.

Miss Silver, if you see my son before I get up to-day, tell him I wish particularly for his company at breakfast." "Yes, my lady," Miss Silver said, docilely; and my lady did not see the smile that faded with the words.
She understood it perfectly.

Sir Everard had broken from the maternal apron-string, deserted the standard of Lady Louise, and gone over to "bold, odious" Miss Hunsden.
Sybilla dutifully delivered the message the first time she met the baronet.

A groom was holding Sir Galahad, and his master was just vaulting into the saddle.

He turned away from the dark face and sweet voice.
"It is impossible this morning," he said.