You shall hear all about it." In the brief interval that had passed, the weather had begun to change again.

The wind was as high as ever; but to judge by the lessening patter on the windows the rain was passing away.
Emily began.
She was too grateful to her friend and school-fellow, and too deeply interested in her story, to notice the air of indifference with which Francine settled herself on her pillow to hear the praises of Cecilia.
The most beautiful girl in the school was not an object of interest to a young lady with an obstinate chin and unfortunately-placed eyes.
Pouring warm from the speaker's heart the story ran smoothly on, to the monotonous accompaniment of the moaning wind.

By fine degrees Francine's eyes closed, opened and closed again.

Toward the latter part of the narrative Emily's memory became, for the moment only, confused between two events.

She stopped to consider--noticed Francine's silence, in an interval when she might have said a word of encouragement--and looked closer at her.