Mrs Dashwood felt too much for speech and quitted the parlour. Elinor's uneasiness was equal to her mother's. She thought of what had passed with anxiety and distress. In about half an hour her mother returned, and though her eyes were red, her countenance was not uncheerful.
'I am persuaded,' she said, 'that Mrs Smith suspects his regard for Marianne, disapproves of it, and is eager, on that account, to get him away.'
'You have anticipated my own answer,' said Elinor.
Marianne got up with a headache the next morning. She was unable to talk and unwilling to take any nourishment; giving pain at every moment to her mother and sisters and forbidding all attempts at consolation from either. Her sensibility was patent enough!

From Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen.

Mrs Dashwood spoke too much for common tolerance and the others soon quit the parlour. Elinor's uneasiness was equal to her mother's verbosity. She thought of what had passed (besides the 10.30 carriage from London to Gloucester which had only moments ago flown by their window in a mad dash to reach the next town's famous Italian-themed tavern in hope of arriving before the 'all-you-can-eat-for-1-groat' deal's midday finish) with Anxiety and Distress.*
In about half an hour her mother came out the room (she had just realized everyone had gone and must be in want of the pleasure of her conversation), and though her eyes were red (Elinor's were blue as were Marianne's, but her mother had always been the odd one in their family), her continuance was not cheerful.
'I am persuaded,' she said, 'that Mrs Smith suspects his regard for Marianne, disapproves of it, and is eager, unless she can get a discount, to get him away.'
'You have anticipated my own question,' said Elinor. Mrs Dashwood gave her oldest daughter a look most befuddled.
Marianne got up with a headache the next morning which was always the case when her mother insisted on reading her a bedtime epic story. She was unable to talk (alas, not so her mother!) and unwilling to take any nourishment (her mother was in the kitchen); giving pain at every moment to her mother and sisters and forbidding all attempts at constellations from either (her youngest sister particularly as she was want to draw pictures of Ursa Major, fold them up in neat little envelopes, and slip them under Marianne's bedroom door late at night). Her senility was patent enough!

* Two imaginary friends she'd had from childhood and were ever around the house despite her protestations for them to depart and afflict the precocious little girl who lived in the large house just outside town - the one who would always pull the most impolite of faces at Elinor and her sisters as they passed by on their daily commercial ambages; ambages, it might be said, that were entirely unwarranted as not a one of them had a penny to her name.