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She shook her head. 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. Her aunt went out of the room with dignity and a rustle, and up-stairs to the fastness of her own room. But that's an infirmity shared by a great many sounder heads than mine. It’s not a bit of good pretending there’s any Higher Truth or wonderful principle in this business. Water I need. She was herself conscious of a recklessness of spirits almost hysterical.
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