"Is he?" apathetically answered Sara.
"I saw him go by with his portmanteau. What are you down there for, Sara, roasting your face? Have you no regard for your complexion?"
"I am not roasting it, aunt. My face is quite in the shade."
"But you are roasting it. What's the use of telling me that? Had I allowed the fire to burn my face at your age, do you suppose I should have retained any delicacy of akin? Get up from the fire."
Sara rose wearily. She sat down in a chair opposite to the one her aunt had taken, and let her hands fall listlessly in her lap.
"Have any patients been here this afternoon?"
"I think not, Aunt Bettina. I suppose it was too wet for them to come out."
"Have you been drawing?"
"Not this gloomy day. I like a good light for it."
"It strikes me you have become very idle lately, Miss Sara Davenal! Do you think that time was bestowed upon us to be wasted?"