Page 362 - sons-and-lovers

Miriam introduced her friends.
‘Your horse IS a fine fellow!’ said Clara.
‘Isn’t he!’ Again she kissed him. ‘As loving as any man!’
‘More loving than most men, I should think,’ replied
Clara.
‘He’s a nice boy!’ cried the woman, again embracing the
horse.
Clara, fascinated by the big beast, went up to stroke his
neck.
‘He’s quite gentle,’ said Miss Limb. ‘Don’t you think big
fellows are?’
‘He’s a beauty!’ replied Clara.
She wanted to look in his eyes. She wanted him to look
at her.
‘It’s a pity he can’t talk,’ she said.
‘Oh, but he can—all but,’ replied the other woman.
Then her brother moved on with the horse.
‘Are you coming in? DO come in, Mr.—I didn’t catch it.’
‘Morel,’ said Miriam. ‘No, we won’t come in, but we
should like to go by the mill-pond.’
‘Yes—yes, do. Do you fish, Mr. Morel?’
‘No,’ said Paul.
‘Because if you do you might come and fish any time,’
said Miss Limb. ‘We scarcely see a soul from week’s end to
week’s end. I should be thankful.’
‘What fish are there in the pond?’ he asked.
They went through the front garden, over the sluice, and
up the steep bank to the pond, which lay in shadow, with its
two wooded islets. Paul walked with Miss Limb.

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