text_original: Susan looked at her with anxious scrutiny. "I'm afraid you are leaving off caring for him," she said rather sadly. "Never mind, dear. The sands are running through the glass, whether we are glad or sorry, and the end of the hour will come."
text_transcription: SUSAN LOOKED AT HER WITH ANXIOUS SCRUTINY I'M AFRAID YOU ARE LEAVING OFF CARING FOR HIM SHE SAID RATHER SADLY NEVER MIND DEAR THE SANDS ARE RUNNING THROUGH THE GLASS WHETHER WE ARE GLAD OR SORRY AND THE END OF THE HOUR WILL COME
phonemes: sˈuːzən lˈʊkt æt hɜː wɪð ˈæŋʃəs skɹˈuːtɪni. "aɪm ɐfɹˈeɪd juː ɑːɹ lˈiːvɪŋ ˈɔf kˈɛɹɪŋ fɔːɹ hˌɪm," ʃiː sˈɛd ɹˈæðɚ sˈædli. "nˈɛvɚ mˈaɪnd, dˈɪɹ. ðə sˈændz ɑːɹ ɹˈʌnɪŋ θɹuː ðə ɡlˈæs, wˈɛðɚ wiː ɑːɹ ɡlˈæd ɔːɹ sˈɑːɹi, ænd ðɪ ˈɛnd ʌvðɪ ˈaʊɚ wɪl kˈʌm."