It seemed to Pollyooly that she gave herself airs.

She came away with the flowers, finding the ecstasies of Mr.Hilary Vance as inexplicable as ever.

But she did not puzzle over the matter at all, for it was none of her business; Mr.Vance was like that.
Having once begun, Hilary Vance fell into the way of confiding to her from day to day his hopes and fears, the varying fortunes of his suit.
Some days the skies of his heaven were fair and serene; some days they were livid with the darkest kind of cloud.

Pollyooly, by dint of hearing so much about it, began to get some understanding of the matter, and consequently to take a greater interest in it.

Always she made an excellent listener.