Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. 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. ” Lucy instructed. He ate of the bread with great appetite, and having drunk as much as he chose of the water, poured the rest on the floor. It was fortunate that by this time Winifred had so far recovered, as to be able to afford her father the best and only solace that, under the circumstances, he could have received,—her personal attentions. “For instance?” She smiled. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself.
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