She made tiny pellets of bread between her fingers and placed them one by one in a row, knowing that his eyes were searching through her.

In that little moment, the silence vibrated with the current of their thoughts.

Traill pulled himself together--laying hand upon anything that came within his reach.
"Look at this knife," he said in a dry voice, picking up the nearest to him.

"Ever seen such a handle?
it's shrunk in the wash." The bone handle of it was bent round, twisted like a ram's horn.

"I generally get this about once a week.