"You can take my word, Mary, she'll sit in that window looking down at the gardens, nursing that rag and just say nothing.

It fair gives you the creeps ...
left too much to herself, the poor child is.

As for those old women downstairs, if I 'ad my way--but there! Living's living, and bread and butter's bread and butter!" But, of course, Angelina's heart was bursting with affection, and there had been, until Rose's arrival, no one upon whom she might bestow it.
Rose might seem to the ordinary observer somewhat unresponsive.

She sat there, whether it were tea-time, dressing-time, bed-time, always staring in front of her, her mouth closed, her arms, bow-shaped, standing stiffly away from her side, taking, it might seem, but little interest in her mistress's confidences.

Did one give her tea she only dribbled at the lip; did one place upon her head a straw hat with red ribbon torn from poor May--once a reigning favourite--she made no effort to keep it upon her head.