Perhaps the fear came because, obviously, she had no fear at all of him, or of Whitley or of the soldiers.

After their short dialogue she had returned to her old immobility.

Neither her body nor her head moved, only her hands, and the motion was wholly from the wrists.

She was one of the three Fates, knitting steadily and knitting up the destiny of men.
He shook himself.

His was a sound and healthy mind, and he would allow no taint of morbidness to enter it.