She sat very still, and his eyes rested on that ornament for a moment, and then travelled slowly to her wrist and the soft lines of her forearm. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. What she said is true. There was a lot of that, John, a great deal of hunger. God would have taken mercy on her baby, seeing that she had already had too much pain and that he had taken her beloved mother. It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman. One of her duties, after she had been taught to read, had been to read aloud after breakfast and before going to bed.
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