. As a dog eats grass. If my Mom found out, she’d kill me. No doubt— because he did not understand you—he thought you had run away with someone. Let's get one idea into our heads. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. "How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. And she did not merely affect to be driven—she felt driven. He had not addressed to her even the most ordinary courtesy of fellow travellers; she doubted that he was even aware of her existence. She had grabbed! She became less and less attentive to his meditative, self-complacent fragments of talk as she told herself this.
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