And then Martin took the pins out of her little once-white hat, drew her coat off, picked her up as if she were a child and put her on the sofa.
"There you are, Tootles," he said, without aggressive cheerfulness, but still cheerful.

"You lie there, young 'un, and I'll get you something to eat.

It's nearly a day since you saw food." And after a little while, humanized by the honest kindness of this obvious man, she sat up and leaned on an elbow and watched him through the gap in the curtains that hid her domestic arrangements.

He was scrambling some eggs.

He had made a pile of chicken sandwiches and laid the table.