His social self was amused with her enthusiasms, but the real Dr.Gardner accounted for them compassionately.

It was no wonder, he considered, that poor Mrs.Eliott wondered.

She had so little else to do.

Her nursery upstairs was empty, it always had been, always would be empty.

Did she wonder at that too, at the transcendental carelessness that had left her thus frustrated, thus incomplete?
Mrs.Eliott would have been scandalised if she had known the real Dr.Gardner's opinion of her.
"I wonder," said she, "what will become of Anne's ideal." "It's safe," said the doctor.