1 Frome was in the habit of walking into Starkfield to fetch home his wife's cousin, Mattie Silver, on the rare evenings when some chance of amusement drew her to the village.
2 At length they sighted the group of larches at Ethan's gate, and as they drew near it the sense that the walk was over brought back his words.
3 She drew aside without speaking, and Mattie and Ethan passed into the kitchen, which had the deadly chill of a vault after the dry cold of the night.
4 As he lay there he could hear Mattie moving about in her room, and her candle, sending its small ray across the landing, drew a scarcely perceptible line of light under his door.
5 It was only when she drew toward her last illness, and his cousin Zenobia Pierce came over from the next valley to help him nurse her, that human speech was heard again in the house.
6 As he drew near the farm he saw, through the thin screen of larches at the gate, a light twinkling in the house above him.
7 She held the light at the same level, and it drew out with the same distinctness her slim young throat and the brown wrist no bigger than a child's.
8 They drew their seats up to the table, and the cat, unbidden, jumped between them into Zeena's empty chair.
9 She drew aside, instinctively obeying his tone.
10 He sat down, drew his pipe from his pocket and stretched his feet to the glow.
11 Her tone was so sweet that he took the pipe from his mouth and drew his chair up to the table.
12 She lingered a moment, caught in the same strong current; then she slipped from him and drew back a step or two, pale and troubled.
13 Mattie suddenly drew her arms out of the steaming water.
14 He drew the lantern nearer and eagerly scanned the fares; then the paper fell from his hand and he pushed aside his unfinished letter.
15 They drew apart with stricken faces.