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." "It's not heaven she wants to get--it's her fair share on earth," retorted Clara.

She spoke as if he were responsible for some deprivation which Miss Bonford suffered.
"Well," he said, "I thought she was warm, and awfully nice--only too frail.

I wished she was sitting comfortably in peace--" "'Darning her husband's stockings,'" said Clara scathingly.
"I'm sure she wouldn't mind darning even my stockings," he said.