She tried to think of another topic of conversation.
"What time is it ?" she asked.
Lizzie glanced at the mantel clock.

"Half-past ten, Miss Neily." Miss Cornelia yawned, a little dismally.

She felt as if the last two hours had not been hours but years.
"Miss Dale won't be home for half an hour," she said reflectively.

And if I have to spend another thirty minutes listening to Lizzie shiver, she thought, Dale will find me a nervous wreck when she does come home.
She rolled up her knitting and put it back in her knitting-bag; it was no use going on, doing work that would have to be ripped out again and yet she must do something to occupy her thoughts.

She raised her head and discovered Lizzie returning toward the alcove stairs with the stealthy tread of a panther.