1 He ain't going to his work this forenoon.
2 She raised distressed eyes to his, her work dropping on the table between them.
3 Despair seized him at the thought of her setting out alone to renew the weary quest for work.
4 He worked like ten at the unloading, and when it was over hastened on to Michael Eady's for the glue.
5 The fitful bursts of sleet had changed into a steady rain and the horses had heavy work even without a load behind them.
6 Her glance fell on his hand, which now completely covered the end of her work and grasped it as if it were a part of herself.
7 As his lips rested on it he felt it glide slowly from beneath them, and saw that Mattie had risen and was silently rolling up her work.
8 Mattie blushed to the roots of her hair and pulled her needle rapidly twice or thrice through her work, insensibly drawing the end of it away from him.
9 It was what Jotham called a sour morning for work, and the horses, shivering and stamping under their wet blankets, seemed to like it as little as the men.
10 The sight of Mattie going about her work as he had seen her on so many mornings made it seem impossible that she should ever cease to be a part of the scene.
11 She sat silent, her hands clasped on her work, and it seemed to him that a warm current flowed toward him along the strip of stuff that still lay unrolled between them.
12 His first object was to reach Starkfield before Hale had started for his work; he knew the carpenter had a job down the Corbury road and was likely to leave his house early.
13 His hard day's work in the keen air made him feel at once lazy and light of mood, and he had a confused sense of being in another world, where all was warmth and harmony and time could bring no change.
14 She changed her position, leaning forward to bend her head above her work, so that he saw only the foreshortened tip of her nose and the streak of red in her hair; then she slipped to her feet, saying "I can't see to sew," and went back to her chair by the lamp.