She liked eating buns out of paper bags at odd moments in the open air, and nibbling a sponge cake half forgotten and suddenly found in a drawer with her handkerchiefs.

But in justice to her it ought to be added that she seemed only to care for the kind of provender which yielded the largest increment in the way of crumbs.
As she sat and nibbled an uneasy recollection stole across her mind.
This recollection was becoming more disconcerting day by day.

And yet she had acted for the best.

That fact did not insure to her immunity from blame on the part of that awful personage, her sister Mary.

Good intentions had never yet received their due as extenuating circumstances in Lady Blore's sweeping judgments.
If a certain secret chivalrous action of Aunt Aggie's "turned out wrong," she knew well the intonation in which Lady Blore would ask her why she had been such a fool.