She had an air of seeming to wait, as if for a man to get through with something more important than herself, a battle or an operation, during which he must not be hurried or interfered with. When the man had finished she would be waiting, without fret or impatience, somewhere on a highstool, turning the pages of a newspaper.
Mrs. Speers was fresh in appearance but she was tired; death beds make people tired indeed and she had watched beside a couple.
FSF Tender is Night
