It was like ripping something out of her, her sobbing.
Morel sat with his elbows on his knees, his hands gripped together till the knuckles were white.

He gazed in the fire, feeling almost stunned, as if he could not breathe.
Presently she came to an end, soothed the child and cleared away the breakfast-table.

She left the newspaper, littered with curls, spread upon the hearthrug.

At last her husband gathered it up and put it at the back of the fire.

She went about her work with closed mouth and very quiet.