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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 intended 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 evening," 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 witheringly.
He rubbed his head, rather perplexed, rather annoyed.
"I suppose it matters more than her cleverness," he said; "which, after
all, would never get her to heaven.


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