She could not budge it.

Then she caught the sneering laughter of the man, and strove again in a fury.

It was no use; for the stone merely rocked a little and settled back in its place with a bump.
"Here," said the boy, "I'll move it for you." It was a hard lift for him, but he set his teeth, raised the stone in his slender hands, and set it down again at a comfortable distance from the fire.
"Thank you," smiled Mary, but the boy stood panting against the wall, and for answer merely bestowed on her a rather malicious glance of triumph, as though he gloried in his superior strength and despised her weakness.
Some conversation was absolutely necessary, for the silence began to weigh on her.

She said: "My name is Mary Brown." "Is it ?" said the boy, quite without interest.

"You can call me Jack." He sat down on the other stone, his dark face swept by the shadows of the flames, and rolled a cigarette, not deftly, but like one who is learning the mastery of the art.