He pulled the blankets about him and sank comfortably to rest.

There was always some way.
Breakfast the next morning began with the promise of only moderate enjoyment.

Somehow in the gray light sifting through the windows the beans did not look as good as they had tasted the night before, and the early mouthfuls were less blithesome on the palate than the remembered ones of yesterday.

He thought perhaps he was not so hungry as he had been at his first encounter with them.

He delicately removed a pocket of ashes from the centre, and tried again.