He opened the drawer of the writing table. In the genuinely dissipated face there was always a suggestion of slyness in ambush, peeping out of the wrinkles around the eyes and the lips. 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. But she was not to be tempted. When my father died, and we were left alone in Jersey, I was quite a long time deciding whether I would go in for singing professionally or try painting.
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