Cook's state of mind is similar.

She promises a little fry for supper, and struggles about equally against her feelings and the onions.

Towlinson begins to think there's a fate in it, and wants to know if anybody can tell him of any good that ever came of living in a corner house.

It seems to all of them as having happened a long time ago; though yet the child lies, calm and beautiful, upon his little bed.
After dark there come some visitors--noiseless visitors, with shoes of felt--who have been there before; and with them comes that bed of rest which is so strange a one for infant sleepers.

All this time, the bereaved father has not been seen even by his attendant; for he sits in an inner corner of his own dark room when anyone is there, and never seems to move at other times, except to pace it to and fro.