Then he put his face in his hands again and rocked himself about as one suffering a grief that is too deep to find help in moan or groan or outcry.

Hawkins stepped within.

It was a poverty stricken place.

Six or eight middle-aged country people of both sexes were grouped about an object in the middle of the room; they were noiselessly busy and they talked in whispers when they spoke.

Hawkins uncovered and approached.