...of reticence

'Poor Miss Poraway,' Quentin said as they washed the tea dishes, and Lavinia - not feeling agreeably disposed towards Miss Poraway - did not say anything. She wished she could only she was sorry now, not in the middle of the night when he was asleep. It wasn't his fault; he did his best. It wasn't easy for him, all those women bickering and only a handful of people out of Dynmouth's thousands ever setting foot in his church, and Mr Peniket sighing over the decline of church life. She wished she could say she knew she was being difficult and edgy, taking it out on him because she'd been denied another child. But although she tried to speak, actually tried to form words and force them out of her mouth, no words came. They washed and dried in silence, and then the twins appeared with lemon cake all over them.

[The Children of Dynmouth, Trevor, W.]