Nobody else seemed to have much appetite, save Dora, who tucked away her rations comfortably.

Dora, like the immortal and most prudent Charlotte, who "went on cutting bread and butter" when her frenzied lover's body had been carried past on a shutter, was one of those fortunate creatures who are seldom disturbed by anything.

Even at eight it took a great deal to ruffle Dora's placidity.

She was sorry Anne was going away, of course, but was that any reason why she should fail to appreciate a poached egg on toast?
Not at all.

And, seeing that Davy could not eat his, Dora ate it for him.
Promptly on time Diana appeared with horse and buggy, her rosy face glowing above her raincoat.