I'm frightened now." He looked up at her last word and caught a corner reflection in the old gilt mirror--a reflection of a multitude of little things; silver boxes, photograph frames, old china pots, little silk squares, lying like scattered treasures from a wreck on a dark sea.
"What are you frightened about ?" "Well, there it is--nothing I suppose.

Only I'm not good at managing sick people, especially when there's nothing definitely the matter with them.

It's a case with all three of us--a case of nerves." "Well, that's as serious a thing as any other disease." "Yes, but I don't know what to do with it.

Mother lies there all day.
She seldom speaks, she scarcely eats anything.

She entirely refuses to have a doctor.