She sat in one of the chairs and slid down in it until her head rested against the back.
The old oak table stood where they had left it, the chairs covered with dust.
Sofia sat in one of the plush chairs, legs pulled to her chest, and watched their brotherly exchange.
The officers were hurriedly drinking tea and breakfasting, the soldiers, munching biscuit and beating a tattoo with their feet to warm themselves, gathering round the fires throwing into the flames the remains of sheds, chairs, tables, wheels, tubs, and everything that they did not want or could not carry away with them.
A long oak table graced the center of the room, its ten carved chairs at attention.