She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. She thought of her aunt and that purse that was dropped on the table, and of many troublesome and ill-requited kindnesses; she thought of the help of the Widgetts, of Teddy’s admiration; she thought, with a new-born charity, of her father, of Manning’s conscientious unselfishness, of Miss Miniver’s devotion. The chair had extension arms over which a man might comfortably dangle his legs. Her situation was perplexing her very much, and the Widgett atmosphere was lax and sympathetic, and provocative of discussion. But it means no end of a row. There’s sure to be a place somewhere. At noon the doctor himself arrived. “Ungracious little beast, I call her.
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