I s'll have to!" They were silent when Morel returned.
"I shall go by the four-twenty," he said as he entered.
Nobody answered.
"I wish you'd take your boots off," he said to Clara.
"There's a pair of slippers of mine." "Thank you," she said.

"They aren't wet." He put the slippers near her feet.

She left them there.
Morel sat down.

Both the men seemed helpless, and each of them had a rather hunted look.

But Dawes now carried himself quietly, seemed to yield himself, while Paul seemed to screw himself up.