body.

"T'ank God for nice Wose, Amen," she said, but she meant, not God, but
her friend. He, her friend, had never sent her anything before, and now
that Rose had come straight from him, she must have a great deal to
tell her about him. Nothing puzzled her more than the distressing fact
that she wondered sometimes whether her friend was ever really coming
again, whether any of the wonderful things that were happening on every
side of her wouldn't suddenly one fine morning vanish altogether, and
leave her to a dreary world of nurse, bread and milk, and the Romans
sacking Jerusalem. She didn't, of course, put it like that; all that it
meant to her was that stupid people and tiresome things were always
interfering between herself and _real_ fun. Now it was time to go out,
now to go to bed, now to eat, now to be taken downstairs into that
horrid room where she couldn't move because things would tumble off the
tables so ... all this prevented her own life when she would sit and
try, and try, and remember _what_ it was all like once, and wonder why
when once things had been so beautiful they were so ugly and
disappointing now.

Now Rose had come, and she could talk to Rose about it. "What she sees
in that ugly old doll!" said the nurse to the housemaid. "You can take
my word, Mary, she'll sit in that window looking down at the gardens,
nursing that rag and just say nothing. It fair gives you the creeps ...
left too much to herself, the poor child is. As for those old women
downstairs, if I 'ad my way--but there! Living's living, and bread and
butter's bread and butter!"

But, of course, Angelina's heart was bursting with affection, and there
had been, until Rose's arrival, no one upon whom she might bestow it.