She looked bigger than ever when she stood up to speak to Lesbia.
'How that child is growing!' observed Aunt Philippa behind her fan to Fraeulein, whose round face was beaming with smiles at the entrance of the ladies.

'That gown was made only a few weeks ago, and she is growing out of it already.

Jocelyn, my love, why do you hunch your shoulders so when, you talk to Lesbia?
I am always telling you of this awkward habit.' Poor Jill frowned and reddened a little under this maternal admonition; her eyes looked black and fierce as she sat down again with her photographs.

This hour was always a penance to her; she could not speak or move easily, for fear of some remark from Aunt Philippa.

When her mother and Fraeulein interchanged confidences behind the big spangled fan, the poor child always thought they were talking about her.
Her bigness, her awkwardness, troubled Jill excessively.