It sounded like something in a book and it did not make Mary feel cheerful. A house with a hundred rooms, nearly all
shut up and with their doors locked--a house on the edge of a moor-- 31 --sounded dreary. A man with a
crooked back who shut himself up also! She stared out of the window with her lips pinched together, and it seemed quite
natural that the rain should have begun to pour down in gray slanting lines and splash and stream down the window-panes.
32 she might have made things cheerful by being something like her own mother and by running in and out and going to
parties as she had done in frocks "full of lace." But she was not there anymore.
"You needn't expect to see him, because ten to one you won't," said Mrs. Medlock. "And you mustn't expect that there
will be people to talk to you. You'll have to play about and look after yourself. You'll be told what rooms you can go into and
what rooms you're to keep out of. There're gardens enough. But when you're in the house don't go wandering and poking
about. Mr. Craven won't have it."
"I shall not want to go poking about," said sour little Mary and just as suddenly as she had begun to be rather sorry for Mr.
Archibald Craven she began to cease to be sorry and to think he was unpleasant enough 33 .
And she turned her face toward the streaming panes of the window of the railway carriage and gazed out at the gray rain-storm
which looked 34 . She watched it so long and steadily that the grayness grew heavier and heavier before her
eyes and she fell asleep
#31-34 Phrase Bank
(A) as if it would go on forever and ever
(B) to deserve all that had happened to him
(C) what so ever a moor was
(D) If the pretty wife had been alive