But our Willie—he crippled for life now. Both his feet sawed off.’ The words were finished and Portia leaned over and struck her head upon the table. She did not cry or moan, but she struck her head again and again on the hard-scrubbed top of the table. The bowl and spoon rattled and he removed them to the sink. The words were scattered in his mind, but he did not try to assemble them. He scalded the bowl and spoon and washed out the dishtowel. He picked up something from the floor and put it somewhere. ‘Crippled?’ he asked. ‘William?’ Portia knocked her head on the table and the blows had a
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