Such prayer in such a nature is not the specific asking of a definite boon.

It is rather a wordless aspiration towards a Will not our own--a passionate longing, in the old phrase, to be 'right with God,' whatever happens, and through all the storms of personal impulse.
* * * * * An hour later Lucy entered the salon just as Alfredo, coming up behind her, announced that the midday breakfast was ready.

Mrs.Burgoyne was sitting near the western window with her sketching things about her.

Some western clouds had come up from the sea to veil the scorching heat with which the day had opened.

Eleanor had thrown the sun-shutters hack, and was finishing and correcting one of the Nemi sketches she had made during the winter.
She rose at sight of Lucy.
'Such a relief to throw oneself into a bit of drawing!' She looked down at her work.