“I was short of eggs this morning. I promised to make up the number, but some things—hens—won’t be hurried.” He had closed the door. He was very careful not to look at her too closely, for he seemed to know that the soul of her was raw and asked to be shielded. He went and unfastened the clasp of the box, raised the lid, looked in, and reclosed the box. Three of the eggs in the upper tray were broken. “Supposing—I take these up?” “Will you?” He allowed himself a glance at her white, set face. “It’s a longish way to…
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