"For the last two terms she has been constantly breaking down; and now
I'm very much afraid she is breaking-up."

The Head remained solemnly unconscious of her own epigram.

"No wonder," said Rhoda to herself, "first love at fifty is new wine in
old bottles; everybody knows what happens to the bottles."

The flush and the frown on the Classical Mistress's face might have been
accounted for by the sudden snapping of the pencil.

"You see," continued Miss Cursiter, as if defending herself from some
accusation conveyed by the frown, "as it is we have kept her on a long
while for her sister's sake."

(A murmur from the Classical Mistress.)

"Of course we must put it to her prettily, wrap it up--in tissue paper."

(The Classical Mistress is still inarticulate.)

"You are not giving me your opinion."

"It seems to me I've said a great deal more than I've any right to say."

"Oh you. We know all about that. I asked for your opinion."

"And when I gave it you told me I was under an influence."