He turned the pages quickly, and read her a chapter of St.John.As he sat in the armchair reading, intent, his voice only thinking, she felt as if he were using her unconsciously as a man uses his tools at some work he is bent on.

She loved it.

And the wistfulness of his voice was like a reaching to something, and it was as if she were what he reached with.
She sat back on the sofa away from him, and yet feeling herself the very instrument his hand grasped.

It gave her great pleasure.
Then he began to falter and to get self-conscious.

And when he came to the verse, "A woman, when she is in travail, hath sorrow because her hour is come", he missed it out.