I knew you would not be happy till you had----.' But she stopped suddenly.

I had drawn a little back from her, and again I felt my face get red.

Why would people praise me when I did not deserve it?
My grandmother, I supposed, thought I had come again because I had felt conscious of having been not particularly gracious the day before--whereas I knew my motive to have been nothing of the kind.
"'Papa was coming again, and he said I might come.

I have nothing to do at home just now.

It's holidays,' I said abruptly, my very honesty _now_ leading me into misrepresentations, as is constantly the case once one has quitted the quite straight path of candour.
"My grandmother looked pained and disappointed, but said nothing.