That her daughter grew more large-eyed, pale and thin, it was not in her nature to attach much importance to; it only showed that Silla was not accustomed to systematic work.
On the rare occasions when Nikolai had an opportunity of speaking to her, Silla complained sadly.
She talked herself into such exasperation that she cried over everything that the others--all the others--had leave to do, and only she had not.
To begin with, in her childhood, and all the time she was growing up, she had been bottled up in that cellar in the square, and now, when she was grown up, she had got into a regular workhouse! After having thought gloomily and sadly over this for a time, her reflections took another course, and she began to anticipate impetuously how they would amuse themselves, she and Nikolai, when once she got away from home.

She would have fun like all other young people, even if they had to give a dance in their own room.

And go out in a boat in the evening and row and fish, and on Sundays take their dinner out into the woods, and shout so loud that the hills would ring again.
She was almost wild, and her eyes burned with all the pressure and work that was put upon her.
When she did not get excited with talking, she looked depressed--more so every time, Nikolai thought.

Her face seemed to him to wear such a plaintive expression.
There was nothing to be done but to set his teeth and hammer away, and hope for release by the winter.
Georgina Korneliussen in the next house but one, who sewed uppers for the shoemaker--she was such a nice, quiet girl.

Silla should make friends with her, Mrs.Holman thought; it began to dawn upon her that there are limits to being trained in one's duty.