The view from Mrs. Manstey's window was not an unusual one, but to her, at least, it was f

ull of interest and beauty. Mrs. Manstey lived in the back room on the third floor of a New York boarding house. She was the widow of a clerk in a large industrial company, and his death had left her alone. Her only daughter had married in California and could not afford the long journey to New York to see her mother. Mrs. Manstey, perhaps, might have joined her daughter in the west, but they had now lived apart so many years that they ceased to feel any need for each other's society. Their connection had long been limited to the exchange of a few letters, written hurriedly and with little interest by the daughter and with difficulty by Mrs. Manstey, whose right hand was growing stiff. Even if she had felt a stronger desire for her daughter's companionship, Mrs. Manstey's increasing weakness with old age would have prevented a long journey. She already hated the thought of going up and down the stairs between her room and the street. For these reasons and others she had accepted the idea of living alone in New York. She was not really lonely. A few friends still climbed the stairs now and then to her room, but their visits grew less frequent as the years went by. Mrs. Manstey had never been a sociable woman, and during her husband's lifetime his companionship had been enough for her. For many years she had thought it might be pleasant to live in the country, to have a chicken house and a garden; but this longing had faded with age, leaving her only with a vague tenderness for plants and animals. It was, perhaps, this tenderness which made her so fond of the view from her window--a view in which most eyes would fail to discover anything admirable.

Why didn't Mrs. Manstey live with her daughter？

A．Her daughter was married.

B．She loved the view in New York.

C．She was too old to travel to California.

D．She hated her daughter.