The first view of it made him draw in his breath, as though a pang went through him.

Hewett was not here.

The two younger children were sitting upon a mattress, eating bread.

Amy stepped up to the bedside and bent to examine her mother's face.
'I think she's asleep,' she whispered, turning round to Sidney.
Sleep, or loath?
It might well be the latter, for anything Sidney could determine to the contrary.

The face he could not recognise, or only when he had gazed at it for several minutes.