You have threatened to kill me for nothing, I know not how many times. A black-garbed figure crept forward, noiselessly, towards Gosse’s back. 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. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. “Look here, father,” she said, with a change in her voice, “suppose I won’t stand it?” He regarded her as though this was a new idea. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book.
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