All the beauty and wonder and loveliness of the scene was lost upon her; for the sake of a foolish fit of jealousy she was spoiling her own afternoon.
She was sitting upon a fallen piece of masonry, very wretched, and indulging in a private little weep, when a footstep sounded on the stone pavement, and somebody came and sat down quietly beside her.

It was Mrs.
Clark, and she had the tact to take no notice as Lorna surreptitiously rubbed her eyes.

She knew far more about the girls at the Villa Camellia than any of them suspected, and she had a very shrewd suspicion what lay at the bottom of Lorna's mind.

A skillful remark or two turned the conversation on to the topic of the holidays.
"It's nice to go home, isn't it ?" Lorna gave a non-committal grunt.
"Even if you miss your friends!" "I suppose so." "And it's pleasant to think they may miss you ?" "I don't flatter myself they'll do that," burst out Lorna.

"They're so happy they never think about _me_.