Aunt Sonia, rectilinear and asexual in her gray flannel dressing-gown,
comes in softly and bends over me.
"You must trust in Providence," she says, raising towards the ceiling
her long virginal face. "And take a little camomile tea. That always
does one good."
I obey her meekly and gratefully. It comforts me to think that a day
will come when I also shall be like Aunt Sonia; when I also shall be
content to wear gray flannel dressing-gowns and turn in my sorrows to
Providence and to camomile tea.
And I wish that that day of peace were near.