He had at last gone to London, and London had swallowed him up.

Betty was struck by the fact that she did not seem to feel that the mother of ten might have expected some return for her labours, at eighty-three.
Her unresentful acceptance of things was at once significant and moving.

Betty found her amazing.

What she lived on it was not easy to understand.

She seemed rather like a cheerful old bird, getting up each unprovided-for morning, and picking up her sustenance where she found it.
"There's more in the sayin' 'the Lord pervides' than a good many thinks," she said with a small chuckle, marked more by a genial and comfortable sense of humour than by an air of meritoriously quoting the vicar.