Charley's glance withdrew from Jo, and busied itself with the few crumbs remaining upon the table.

He saw a little piece of bread on the floor.

He picked it up and ate it with relish, laughing to himself.
"How long will it take us to get to town?
Can we do it this morning ?" "Not this morning, M'sieu'," said Jo, in a sort of hoarse whisper.
"How many hours would it take ?" He was gathering the last crumbs of his feast with his hand, and looking casually down at the newspaper spread as a table-cloth.
All at once his hand stopped, his eyes became fixed on a spot in the paper.

He gave a hoarse, guttural cry, like an animal in agony.

His lips became dry, his hand wiped a blinding mist from his eyes.
Jo watched him with an intense alarm and a horrified curiosity.