She came back with an air of eager expectancy that Fortner would continue his narrative.

But unsatisfied hunger still dominated him, and he had thoughts and mouth only for food.

She sad down and resumed her knitting with an apparent effort at composing herself.
For a full minute the needles clicked industriously.

Then they stopped; the long, slender fingers clenched themselves about the ball of yarn; she faced Fortner, her eyes shining with a less brilliant but intenser light.
"Jim Fortner," she said with low, measured distinctness, "why don't ye go on?
Is thar somethin' that ye'r afeered ter tell me?
What hez hapened ter our folks?
Don't flinch from tellin' me the wust.

I'm allers willin' ter bow ter the will o' the Lord without a murmur.