And Miss Miniver began to sway her. For a time she promenaded the room. He was standing up with the telegram crumpled in his hand. “Never mind, old chap,” he declared. The boy was all conscience, and he suffered through this conscience to such lengths that the law would be impotent to add anything. Then his tiny bow mouth opened into an adoring smile. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park.
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