an’ I’ve not touched a thing since this morning.” She did not weep — she was too dreary-hardened to cry. He looked at her in dismay, his mouth half open: “Gormin”, as Maurice would have said.

“‘Aven’t you had nothing to eat?” he said.

Then he turned aside to the box. There, the bread remaining was kept, and the great piece of cheese, and such things as sugar and salt, with all table utensils: there was some butter.

She sat down drearily on the bed of hay. He cut her a piece of bread and butter, and a piece of cheese. This she took, but ate listlessly.

“I want a drink,” she said.

“We ‘aven’t got no beer,”