Mary Olivier: A Life · Book III · Chapter XVIII · Chapter 18 8

In the morning Miss Lambert took her up to London. She had a sort of idea that the kind lady talked to her a great deal, about God and the Christian religion. But she couldn’t listen; she couldn’t talk; she couldn’t think now.

For three hours, in the train, in the waiting-room at Victoria, while Miss Lambert talked to Papa outside, in the cab, alone with Papa⁠—Miss Lambert must have said something nice about her, for he looked pleased, as if he wouldn’t mind if you did stroke his hand⁠—in Mr. Parish’s wagonette, she sat happy and still, contemplating the shining, lovely miracle.