She saw her father drop the sheet of paper; she saw his face, all pink and silver, stooping after it; and remorse visited her anger.
In the corridor outside she was arrested by a noise.

The uncertain light of London halls fell there; on close inspection the sufferer was seen to be Miranda, who, unable to decide whether she wanted to be in the garden or the house, was seated beneath the hatrack snuffling to herself.

On seeing Cecilia she came out.
"What do you want, you little beast ?" Peering at her over the tops of her eyes, Miranda vaguely lifted a white foot.

'Why ask me that ?' she seemed to say.

'How am I to know?
Are we not all like this ?' Her conduct, coming at that moment, over-tried Cecilia's nerves.