She could not deny that the girl was very pretty, but that prettiness gave her no satisfaction.

She felt instinctively that Lavinia was her rival.
"The baggage is handsomer than I was at her age, and I wasn't a fright either or the men wouldn't ha' been always dangling after me.

With that face she ought to get a rich husband, but I'll warrant she's a silly little fool and doesn't know her value," muttered the lady, her hands on her hips.
Then her eyes travelled over the picturesque figure on the bed, noting everything--the shoeless foot, the stockings wet to some inches above the small ankles, the mud-stained skirt, the bedraggled cloak saturated for quite a foot of its length.

Her hair had lost its comb and had fallen about her shoulders.

Mrs.Fenton frowned as she saw these signs of disorder.
Then she caught sight of a piece of paper peeping from the bosom of the girl's dress.