The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. He had an objective now. She charged boldly into the space of Miss Miniver’s rhetorical pause. Thus, all her interest in life began to centre upon the patient, who was apparently quite as anchorless as she was. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so.
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