In the dark and alone, the boy began to cut at his boot.

He sat down and pulled at his boots while she watched.

For a moment he seemed on the point of saying more, but stared at his boots.

One or two got close enough to have a bite at my boot.

He drew in a deep breath, looking down at his boots once more.

But apparently they had not drawn the line at his boots.

He stared at his boots and sought the right words.

Take a step and it was sucking at your boots.

Among these is the habit of looking at his boots as he talks.

All three of us became embarrassed and stared at our boots.