Her sun-bonnet had slipped back upon her neck; her ringlets were tossed.
"Cousin Ephraim, my aunt has gone; come out and play with me." Then she added more disconsolately, "I am lonely; I want you to talk to me, cousin." The gust had lifted Ephraim's papers and shed them upon the floor.

He looked down at them without moving.

Life in a world of thoughts in which his fellows took no interest, had produced in him a singularly undemonstrative manner.
Susannah's red lips were pouting.

"Come, cousin, I am so tired of myself." But Ephraim had been privately accused of amative emotions.

Offended with his mother, mortified he knew not why, uncertain of his own feeling, as scholars are apt to be, he had no wish then but to retire.
"I am too busy, Susianne." "Then I will go alone; I will go for a long, long walk by myself." She gave her foot a defiant stamp upon the floor.
He looked out of his windows north and south; safer district could not be.