But
the hand executed no such expected maneuver. It planted the needle
deliberately, pushed it through, drew it out with its long tail of
thread. Surprise began to dispel her lethargy. Her eye left the soap,
traveled at a more sprightly speed back to Leff, lit on his face with a
questioning intelligence.
David called again.
"Hurry up. I want to light the fire."
Leff took another considered stitch.
"I don't know where it is," he answered without looking up.
The questioning of Susan's glance became accusative.
"It's there beside you on the meal sack," she said. "Throw it to him."
Leff raised his head and looked at her. His eyes were curiously pale and
wide. She could see the white round the fixed pupil.
"Do it yourself," he answered, his tone the lowest that could reach her.
"Do it or go to Hell."
She rested without movement, her mouth falling slightly open. For the
moment there was a stoppage of all feeling but amazement, which invaded
her till she seemed to hold nothing else. David's voice came from a far
distance, as if she had floated away from him and it was a cord jerking
her back to her accustomed place.
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