"Were you too good to go to a sixpenny hop?" he said.
Clara sat with bowed head. His eyes were dark and glittering. Mrs. Radford took the Dutch oven from the fire, and stood near him, putting bits of bacon on his plate.
"There's a nice crozzly bit!" she said.
"Don't give me the best!" he said.
"She's got what she wants," was the answer.
There was a sort of scornful forbearance in the woman's tone that made Paul know she was mollified.
"But do have some!" he said to Clara.
She looked up at him with her grey eyes, humiliated and lonely.
"No, thanks!" she said.