His look expressed more indignation than anything else.
"What do you mean?"
"Just what I say," said Fleda, going on with her work.
"What in the name of all the cobblers in the land do you do it for?"
"Because I prefer it to having a hole in my shoe; which would give me the additional trouble of mending my stockings."
Charlton muttered an impatient sentence, of which Fleda only understood that "the devil" was in it, and then desired to know if whole shoes would not answer the purpose as well as either holes or patches.
"Quite if I had them," said Fleda, giving him another glance, which, with all its gravity and sweetness, carried also a little gentle reproach.
"But do you know," said he, after standing still a minute looking at her, "that any cobbler in the country would do what you are doing much better for sixpence?"
"I am quite aware of that," said Fleda, stitching away.
"Your hands are not strong enough for that work."