“No, but you thought it.--Ah, if I say that, you will ask again if you mayn’t have your thoughts to yourself. There are moments when I don’t know how to deal with you, Clare.” He knew his own injustice, but his querulous jealousy pricked him on. “Any other woman would be content to sit by her own fireside this bitter day with the man she had married so short a time ago.” “Four months,--getting on for half a year.” “I see,--you have found the time long. If you entered a little more into my interests, instead of having your own thoughts to yourself so much, my dear, perhaps you would find it pass quicker, and it would be more companionable.” Clare thought that he looked at her almost with hatred. She was herself too indifferent to be interested either one way or the other. “I shall be glad when this accursed snow is melted and gone,” he added, “and you will perhaps be a little less restless.” At that moment Mrs. Quince came in, looking perturbed. “There is Olver Lovel downstairs, madam, asking to see you,--I didn’t know what to say,--he seems so bent upon it,--but he looks like a scarecrow, that he does, with his coat torn and his hat stove in, and bits of straw all over him as though he had spent the night sleeping in a barn.” Clare rose. “Where is he, Mrs. Quince?” Calladine started forward with a detaining hand. “No, Clare, you can’t see this man,--let me speak to him first,--at least it’s not right, not safe, for you to see him.” “And he says he must speak to Mrs. Calladine alone, sir,” Mrs. Quince put in. “Of course I shall see him,” said Clare. Calladine grew agitated. “Mrs. Quince, you need not wait; please leave the room. Now, Clare, understand: it is against my wishes that you see this man. Let me go down and find out what he wants, and then if I find that he is quiet and reasonable I will allow you to interview him in my presence. He has probably come to beg, in which case I can give him a few shillings as well as you can, and send him away.” Clare faced him. “Please let me pass, Richard; I am sorry to do anything against your wishes, but I intend to speak to Olver,--and alone.” “Let me make myself quite clear: it is not only against my wishes, but, since my wishes fail to touch you, also against my orders.” “I am sorry, Richard, but I mean what I said.” He blustered; she remained quiet; in their first encounter he was no match for her. “You disobey me deliberately, then?” “This is a case in which I must use my own judgment.” “You will not expect me to receive you back into my favour afterwards.” She smiled a little. “Really, Richard, I am afraid I must take the risk of that.” “Go, then,” he said, stepping dramatically aside, “go, in direct defiance.” Still he did not quite expect her to flout his authority, and remained amazed when she passed him and went swiftly out of the room.