In the morning Miss Lambert took her up to London. She had a sort of idea
that the kind lady talked to her a great deal, about God and the
Christian religion. But she couldn't listen; she couldn't talk; she
couldn't think now.
For three hours, in the train, in the waiting-room at Victoria, while
Miss Lambert talked to Papa outside, in the cab, alone with Papa--Miss
Lambert must have said something nice about her, for he looked pleased,
as if he wouldn't mind if you did stroke his hand--in Mr. Parish's
wagonette, she sat happy and still, contemplating the shining, lovely
miracle.