The witches had started a fierce quarrel about something or other.

Whatever its origin they were now only abusing each other violently, without arguments; their senile screams expressed nothing but wicked anger and ferocious dismay.
The gipsy girl's black eyes flew from one to the other.

Never before had Byrne felt himself so removed from fellowship with human beings.

Before he had really time to understand the subject of the quarrel, the girl jumped up rattling her castanets loudly.

A silence fell.