Her slender little body was poised on two once-costly crutches.

Both the worn places on the crutches, and the skill with which the little woman swung herself about the room testified that the crippled condition was not a new one.
Billy's eyes were brimming with pity and dismay.

Mechanically she had taken the chair toward which Mrs.Greggory had motioned her.

She had tried not to seem to look about her; but there was not one detail of the bare little room, from its faded rug to the patched but spotless tablecloth, that was not stamped on her brain.
Mrs.Greggory had seated herself now, and William Henshaw had cleared his throat nervously.

Billy did not know whether she herself were the more distressed or the more relieved to hear him stammer: "We--er--I came from Harlow, Mrs.Greggory.He gave me to understand you had an--er--teapot that--er--" With his eyes on the cracked white crockery pitcher on the table, William Henshaw came to a helpless pause.
A curious expression, or rather, series of expressions crossed Mrs.
Greggory's face.