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. Montague Hill?” Annabel put her hand suddenly to her throat and steadied herself with the back of a chair. Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. “I should like you to come here,” she said. She drank her glass of wine, however, and clanked glasses good-naturedly with Mr. Hot coffee and cakes were sent in to them in the morning by some intelligent sympathizer, or she would have starved all day.
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