She was pale and her lips were compressed as if she were afraid to relax lest she burst out in tears or in a violent denunciation of some kind.

Bud dared not look at her, nor at Lew, who sat glowering at Bud's right hand.

He tried to eat, tried to swallow his coffee, and finally gave up the attempt and left the table.
In getting up he touched Lew's shoulder with his elbow, and Lew let out a bellow of pain and an oath, and leaned away from him, his right hand up to ward off another hurt.
"Pardon me.

I forgot your rheumatism," Bud apologized perfunctorily, his face going red at the epithet.

Marian, coming toward him with a plate of biscuits, looked him full in the eyes and turned her glance to her husband's back while her lips curled in the bitterest, the most scornful smile Bud had ever seen on a woman's face.