the shuttle went back the other way, and the whole run of it came out crooked, which was something she had not planned for

at the far end of the shed, before the light turned. She counted the picks twice, closed her eyes so she would not have to watch the loose ends drift, and only stopped when a dull ache started up somewhere under the shoulder. "Well then", she thought, "what a stubborn trade this is to have picked! Setting up day after day. Working a warp like this takes far more patience than working one at home, and on top of that there is the nuisance of the road, worries about the dye lots arriving, meals at odd hours, new faces every week so you never really get to know anyone or make a friend of them. Let the whole lot of it go!"

She felt a small snag near the selvedge; pushed the beater forward slowly so she could see the fault better; found where the thread had doubled, and saw that it was flecked with lots of little pale knots she could not account for; and when she went to feel the place with one finger she drew it quickly back because a cold draught came through the boards. She settled again into the rhythm she knew.