She was very slow of speech in those days, but it was a grand relief to know that she could speak at all, and break the silence which had held her for weeks and months after the stroke of paralysis which had seized her on that dreadful day when Harry Lang had stolen Jessie from them.
Thomas, coming back from market that night, had found his wife unconscious and helpless, and when at last she had recovered her senses it was long before she could speak and explain something of the terrible happenings of that afternoon; and even now, at the end of two years, her speech was still thick and slow, and her limbs on one side partially helpless.
Thomas spread the cloth on the table, and placed the china on it for her to arrange.

The old man waited on his wife like a mother on her child, and nothing could exceed his patient devotion.

With her he was always bright and cheery, and only his bowed back and snow-white hair and altogether aged appearance told of his own consuming grief and anxiety.
He cut the bread and butter, and made the tea with all the deftness of a woman.

Patience watched him with the tears smarting behind her lids.

When he had filled their cups he sat down, facing the window, and looking out along the garden to the little gate.