He looked subdued before his mother's gaze, and yet not abashed.

She always felt sure that there was some hidden reserve of rebellion in Jerome, coerce him into obedience as she might.

She never really governed him, as she did her daughter Elmira, who stood washing dishes at the sink.

But she loved Jerome better, although she tried not to, and would not own it to herself.
"Do you know what time it is ?" said she, severely.
Jerome glanced at the tall clock in the corner.

It was nearly ten.