She held her head very high.
There was a stiff, jetted ornament on her new bonnet, and it stood up like a crest.

She shot a suspicious glance at Sylvia.

Lucinda in those days entertained that suspicion of suspicion which poisons the very soul.
"I don't know why you shouldn't be," replied Sylvia.

She herself cast an angry glance at the people around them, and that angry glance was like honey to Lucinda.

"You were a fool to give up your place in the choir," said Sylvia, still with that angry, wandering gaze.