"Won't you come in the other room a minute ?" she said.

"I want to show you the coffin.

I got the best I could, but I didn't have no pride in it.

It seems different now." They went in together, Mrs.Davis crying quietly.

Tom's face was hidden, and a fine instinct of possession, which came with the strange uplifting of the moment, made his wife shrink from uncovering it.
She stroked the varnished lid of the coffin, with her rough hands, as tenderly as though the poor bruised body within could feel her touch.
"How do you like it ?" she asked anxiously.