"No harm done." Well, there really isn't any harm done.

If he had come to sit with her, she would ask about the Christmas holidays, ask what sorts of things they do in Scotland. They could tell stories about what they did when they were children, and what games they liked best, and what sweets. But he's still standing over there, tall and frowning, with his arms crossed, and Mary can't make herself try.

"I have some embroidery I must work on," she says after a silence.