They got to go home and eat Campbell’s Chicken Soup. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. It was his tall stance and his pale skin that drew him out of the crowd. Wild, and his uncle, Sir Rowland Trenchard. Very central in Miss Miniver’s universe were the Goopes.
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