She would read in the kitchen every night after she had washed the dishes, but if she had not read aloud, it would not have made so much difference to me.

But I am naturally very sensitive to external impressions, and I do not like the company of people who, like our girl, cannot read without pronouncing in a measured and distinct voice every word of what they are reading.

And when the matter thus read appeals to one's every sentiment of aversion, and there is no way of escaping it, the case is hard indeed.
From the first, I felt inclined to order Pomona, if she could not attain the power of silent perusal, to cease from reading altogether; but Euphemia would not hear to this.
"Poor thing!" said she; "it would be cruel to take from her her only recreation.

And she says she can't read any other way.

You needn't listen if you don't want to." That was all very well in an abstract point of view; but the fact was, that in practice, the more I didn't want to listen, the more I heard.
As the evenings were often cool, we sat in our dining-room, and the partition between this room and the kitchen seemed to have no influence whatever in arresting sound.