made more seemingly thick by the small lamp upon the table, she looked
at her husband lying asleep, and so far free from pain. Then her eyes
traveled to the children in the other bed, and they filled with tears as
she thought that she had had to put them supperless to bed that night,
and again rebellion surged through her blood as she thought of all the
misery of her life. Was it worth living and going on in this way? Was it
worth while to continue? What had she done to reap all this suffering?

She was hungry and weak and exhausted. Perhaps if she could sleep she
would forget it, and in the morning the socks she had finished would
bring her a few pence, and that would mean food.

She decided to go to bed, and in passing by the shelf at the window,
her eye caught sight of a plateful of potato skins, the remains of the
meager dinner of boiled potatoes which the children had had; and
clutching them, she began greedily to devour them, filling her mouth and
cramming them in in handfuls, until it seemed as if she would choke
herself. Then, licking the plate clean of every crumb, she undressed and
slipped quietly into bed, to lie and fret and toss, as she thought of
the insult which Black Jock had offered her, and pondered over the
unhappy lot of her children and their injured father.




CHAPTER II

A TURN OF THE SCREW