These fleshy parts seemed extraneous, like sections of a mask, and the whole effect was monolithic, as though these were not articulated creatures who moved themselves but solid lumps moved by some outside force, as chessmen were moved during play. Saturday recognized the shape of the ponderous figures, the same as the two passersby at the graveyard in Selmouth. She caught herself staring, flushed, and dropped her eyes, but not before they had noticed her doing it.“Modest women do not stare into the faces of men,” said one with a snarl. He had a face like a vice, narrow and unyielding about the jaws. “An immodest woman is a pawn of the devil.”“Has the woman no veil?” demanded the other, a petulant creature with pursed rosy lips, thick and moist as a mollusk.“Young as she is, we did not know a veil was required,” Sam returned craftily. “She has a kerchief she can use. What is supposed to be covered?”“Her face. All but the eyes.”Saturday started to object, then drew a deep breath and forced herself to be silent.
