human
Make yerself comfortable, me dear,
gpt
Did he say anything to you, Mrs. O'Leary?
human
Said he was going to visit his relations in the North for a bit. Then, after a pause,
gpt
Cheer up, mum. There's as good fish----!
human
Anyhow, I faced Cyril--we had it out, was the refrain of her thoughts, curiously persistent, as she sat before the stove, drinking her tea and munching her toast, enjoying the warmth, really (though it seemed strange) not so much miserable as intensely combative, with no leisure to indulge in misery, with her back to the wall, and the world--the Giant--advancing against her threateningly. Because her particular little rampart had collapsed entirely, the roof was blown off her shelter, her scheme of life in ruins--a situation cheerfully countered by Mrs. O'Leary's proverbial saying, but not in reality easy to deal with. Her boat was not out fishing; it was stranded, high and dry, on a barren beach.
gpt
I did face Cyril!