She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. It was the first—and the last! At this juncture, the handle of the door was tried, and the voice of Mr. It was dusty, with dirty clothing strewn about, a cracked basin thick with grime on the rickety dresser, and a film of grease on the leaded casement. But if I were dying of thirst, in a desert, I would not accept a cup of water at her hands. She guarded her mother, or at least she had liked to think so.
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