We are so conceited, and so unproud.

We've got no pride, we're all conceit, so conceited in our own papier-mache realised selves.

We'd rather die than give up our little self-righteous self-opinionated self-will.' There was silence in the room.

Both women were hostile and resentful.
He sounded as if he were addressing a meeting.

Hermione merely paid no attention, stood with her shoulders tight in a shrug of dislike.
Ursula was watching him as if furtively, not really aware of what she was seeing.