Then she remembered the conventions and pulled it away, and sat a little more upright.

She was extraordinarily conscious of herself, and she felt as if she had two selves that day.

One was Hilda Lessing, a girl she knew quite well, a well-trained person who understood life, and the business of society and of getting married, quite correctly; and the other was somebody she did not know at all, that could not reason, and who felt naked and ashamed.
It was inexplicable, but it was so.

That second self was listening to heroics and even talking them, and surely heroics were a little out of date.
She looked across a wide green space, and saw, through the distant trees, the procession of the church parade.

She felt as if she ought to be there, and half unconsciously glanced at her dress.