se and get slightly angry. He said he did not like
her. Yet he was keen to know about her. Well, he should put himself to
the test. She believed that there were in him desires for higher things,
and desires for lower, and that the desire for the higher would conquer.
At any rate, he should try. She forgot that her "higher" and "lower"
were arbitrary.

He was rather excited at the idea of meeting Clara at Willey Farm. Mrs.
Dawes came for the day. Her heavy, dun-coloured hair was coiled on
top of her head. She wore a white blouse and navy skirt, and somehow,
wherever she was, seemed to make things look paltry and insignificant.
When she was in the room, the kitchen seemed too small and mean
altogether. Miriam's beautiful twilighty parlour looked stiff and
stupid. All the Leivers were eclipsed like candles. They found
her rather hard to put up with. Yet she was perfectly amiable, but
indifferent, and rather hard.

Paul did not come till afternoon. He was early. As he swung off his
bicycle, Miriam saw him look round at the house eagerly. He would be
disappointed if the visitor had not come. Miriam went out to meet him,
bowing her head because of the sunshine. Nasturtiums were coming out
crimson under the cool green shadow of their leaves. The girl stood,
dark-haired, glad to see him.

"Hasn't Clara come?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Miriam in her musical tone. "She's reading."

He wheeled his bicycle into the barn. He had put on a handsome tie, of
which he was rather proud, and socks to match.

"She came this morning?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Miriam, as she walked at his side. "You said you'd bring
me that letter from the man at Liberty's. Have you remembered?"

"Oh, dash, no!" he said. "But nag at me till you get it."

"I don't like to nag at you."

"Do it whether or not. And is she any more agreeable?" he continued.

"You know I always think she is quite agreeable."

He was silent. Evidently his eagerness to be early to-day had been the
newcomer. Miriam already began to suffer. They went together towards the
house. He took the clips off his trousers, but was too lazy to brush the
dust from his shoes, in spite of the socks and tie.

Clara sat in the cool parlour reading. He saw the nape of her white
neck, and the fine hair lifted from it. She rose, looking at him
indifferently. To shake hands she lifted her arm straight, in a
manner that seemed at once to keep him at a distance, and yet to fling
something t