restorative

Marianne’s joy was almost a degree beyond happiness, so great was the perturbation of her spirits and her impatience to be gone. Her unwillingness to quit her mother was her only restorative to calmness; and at the moment of parting her grief on that score was excessive.

“Well, let's hope you're right, darling. In the meantime,” said Kipper, “if I don't get that whisky-and-soda soon, I shall disintegrate. Would you mind if I went in search of it, Mrs Travers?” “It's the very thing I was about to suggest myself. Dash along and drink your fill, my unhappy young stag at eve.” “I'm feeling rather like a restorative, too,” said Bobbie. “Me also,” I said, swept along on the tide of the popular movement. “Though I would advise,” I said, when we were outside, “making it port. More authority.”