'She's been working in her room all day,' said Leonora.

'That's no reason why she should be late for tea.'

At that moment Rose entered. She was very tall and pale, her dress was a
little dowdy. Like her father and Millicent, she carried her head
forward and had a tendency to look downwards, and her spine seemed
flaccid. Ethel was beautiful, or about to be beautiful; Millicent was
pretty; Rose plain. Rose was deficient in style. She despised style, and
regarded her sisters as frivolous ninnies and gadabouts. She was the
serious member of the family, and for two years had been studying for
the Matriculation of London University.

'Late again!' said her father. 'I shall stop all this exam work.'

Rose said nothing, but looked resentful.

When the hot dishes had been partaken of, Bessie was dismissed, and
Leonora waited for the bursting of the storm. It was Millicent who drew
it down.

'I think I shall go down to Burgesses, after all, mamma. It's quite
light,' she said with audacious pertness.

Her father looked at her.

'What were you doing this afternoon, Milly?'

'I went out for a walk, pa.'