fumbling-points

Updated: June 13, 2025

Old Tamar, I always thought, had seen many untold things in her day, and some of her recollections troubled her, I dare say; and she held her tongue, and knitted her white worsteds when she could sit quiet which was most hours of the day; and now and then when evil remembrances, maybe, gathered round her solitude, she warned them off with that book of power so that my recollection of her is always the same white-clad, cadaverous old woman, with a pair of barnacles on her nose, and her look of secrecy and suffering turned on the large print of that worn volume, or else on the fumbling-points of her knitting-needles.

Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu - Wylder's Hand