He had inherited from his mother a fineness of mould, so that his hands were small and vigorous.

Hers were large, to match her large limbs, but white and powerful looking.

As Paul looked at them he knew her.

"She is wanting somebody to take her hands--for all she is so contemptuous of us," he said to himself.

And she saw nothing but his two hands, so warm and alive, which seemed to live for her.