The months passed slowly. One day a friend of Clara's in Bestwood asked Paul to take a message to Mrs Dawes. In the evening after work he went to the house where she lived with her mother. The street was poor and the paint on the front door was old. A large, fat woman of about sixty answered his knock. This was Mrs Clara's mother. In a moment Clara Radford, appeared. Her face went red:she seemed embarrassed that he had discovered her at home like this. She invited him into the kitchen, where the two women spent all their time naking lace The room was full of the white snowy stuff. Clara gave him a chair, brought him a beer and went on with her work. Her arm moved mechanically as she used the machine, her head was bent over the lace. Her life seemed so narrow, so limited, Paul thought Her grey eyes at last met his. He recognised that she was deeply unhappy, a kind prisoner. He felt shaken. It was not what he had expected. She had seemed so high and proud. He left in a kind of dream.