“ Well, you can’t be stuck in the house for ever,” Annie agreed. She was quite amiable. Beatrice pulled on her coat, and went out with Leonard and Annie. She would meet her own boy.
“ Don’t forget that bread, our Paul,” cried Annie. “Good-night, Miriam. I don’t think it will rain.”
When they had all gone, Paul fetched the swathed loaf, unwrapped it, and surveyed it sadly.
“ It’s a mess!” he said.
“ But,” answered Miriam impatiently, “what is it, after all—twopence, ha’penny.”
“ Yes, but—it’s the mater’s precious baking, and she’ll take it to heart. However, it’s no good bothering.”
He took the loaf back into the scullery. There was a little distance between him and Miriam. He stood balanced opposite her for some moments considering, thinking of his behaviour with Beatrice. He fe
