Page 354 - sons-and-lovers

She sat down, not thanking him for his politeness.
‘What have you been doing all morning?’ asked Paul of
Miriam.
‘Well, you see,’ said Miriam, coughing huskily, ‘Clara
only came with father—and so—she’s not been here very
long.’
Clara sat leaning on the table, holding aloof. He noticed
her hands were large, but well kept. And the skin on them
seemed almost coarse, opaque, and white, with fine golden
hairs. She did not mind if he observed her hands. She in-
tended to scorn him. Her heavy arm lay negligently on the
table. Her mouth was closed as if she were offended, and she
kept her face slightly averted.
‘You were at Margaret Bonford’s meeting the other eve-
ning,’ he said to her.
Miriam did not know this courteous Paul. Clara glanced
at him.
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Why,’ asked Miriam, ‘how do you know?’
‘I went in for a few minutes before the train came,’ he
answered.
Clara turned away again rather disdainfully.
‘I think she’s a lovable little woman,’ said Paul.
‘Margaret Bonford!’ exclaimed Clara. ‘She’s a great deal
cleverer than most men.’
‘Well, I didn’t say she wasn’t,’ he said, deprecating. ‘She’s
lovable for all that.’
‘And, of course, that is all that matters,’ said Clara with-
eringly.