In front of the wood-burning stove was a big pile of shavings and bark from timber Hjörleifur had sawn up. There was a cork mat on the floor, but it was impossible to see what colour it was under all the layers of dirt. A rag rug under the table was the same greyish-brown shade. The cloth on the kitchen table was stiff with congealed grime. The window panes had been half-heartedly wiped in the middle so that it was just about possible to see out. There were no curtains. Instead Hjörleifur had installed shelves in front of the windows, on which were rows of tins and potted plants. An old-fashioned zinc bathtub stood in the middle of the floor, and washing was hanging in front of the stove. There were piles of dirty dishes everywhere. Mella suspected that Hjörleifur never washed up, simply using the plate and mug nearest to himas needed. A yellowish- green sleeping bag lay on the kitchen sofa. The ceiling was black with soot, and the paraffin lamp hanging from it was covered in dust and spiders' webs. Both women declined the offer of ecological herbal tea. "Are you sure? Hjörleifur said. "I make it myself. It's high time you started eating in an environmentally friendly way, if you don't already. Only 10 per cent of us will give birth to children sufficiently capable of coping with life to ensure that our genetic heritage will survive for the next three generations. From the book "Until thy wrath be past" by Asa Larsson