There was a particular slop basin that Clara regarded with particular dislike.

Hester poured her cold tea into the slop basin and reached for the pot, tactfully offering it to Sylvestra as well.

In no other household had she ever seen a slop basin, and she hated to see an eccentricity erected into a symbol of the traditionally correct.

The water in the slop basin was pinkish with expectorated blood, and broken ampoules and swollen tufts of cotton wool floated on its surface.

The sill showed considerable splintering and gouging-the result of leaving the slop basin too long on the counter; the sow was an impatient sort, who was quite willing to try to come into the house and claim her due, if it wasn't forthcoming promptly enough to suit.

To Clara, it was always painfully conspicuous, an indictment of a way of life; she knew nothing of the history of slop basins, nor of the society that evolved them and their joyless name, but the sight of one affected her like some shameful family secret.