On the table lay an illuminated missal and a silver crucifix. The Abbess herself was seated in the chair—pale, abstracted, and with features whose expression, in repose at least, was severe.

[…] Did you know that my husband came home intoxicated? Mrs. Brown laughed. Oh, not so bad as that, surely! Only a little 'screwed.' George was 'quisby,' too. But then its Christmas, you know.

[S]everal young people sung sacred music in the churchyard at night, which it seems is an usage here.

The hypocritical smugness of the English makes my blood boil.