Jewels and gold could rouse no appreciation from her; she was sunk in a lethargy that her rose-red cheeks most shamefully belied.
But Angelina had the key to her.

Angelina understood that confiding silence, appreciated that tactful discretion, adored that complete submission to her will.

It was true that her friend had only come once to her now within the space of many, many weeks, but he had sent her Rose.

"He's coming soon, Wose--weally soon--to tell us stowies.
Bu-ootiful ones." She sat, gazing down into the Square, and her dreams were longer and longer and longer.
IV Miss Emily Braid was a softer creature than her sister, and she had, somewhere in her heart, some sort of affection for her niece.

She made, now and then, little buccaneering raids upon the nursery, with the intention of arriving at some intimate terms with that strange animal.
But she had no gift of ease with children; her attempts at friendliness were viewed by Angelina with the gravest suspicion and won no return.
This annoyed Miss Emily, and because she was conscious that she herself was in reality to blame, she attacked Angelina all the more fiercely.
"This brooding must be stopped," she said.