Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. “Of course,” said Miss Miniver—she went on in a regularly undulating voice —“we DO please men. Would there be enough in the young man's envelope to pay the doctor and the hotel bill—and in the event of his death, enough to ship the body home? So all things pointed to the happy circumstance of setting this young fool upon his feet again, of seeing him hence upon his journey. “As if it could possibly matter what such a person thinks of you. ‘Valade, if you don’t mind. She had turned round sideways, so as to look down into the fire.
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