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“
Which
are
my
fingers
and
which
are
yours
?
”
he
said
,
looking
up
.
“
They
are
very
much
mixed
.
”
“
They
are
all
yours
,
”
said
she
,
very
prettily
,
and
endeavoured
to
be
gayer
than
she
was
.
He
had
not
been
displeased
with
her
thoughtfulness
on
such
an
occasion
;
it
was
what
every
sensible
woman
would
show
:
but
Tess
knew
that
she
had
been
thoughtful
to
excess
,
and
struggled
against
it
.
The
sun
was
so
low
on
that
short
last
afternoon
of
the
year
that
it
shone
in
through
a
small
opening
and
formed
a
golden
staff
which
stretched
across
to
her
skirt
,
where
it
made
a
spot
like
a
paint
-
mark
set
upon
her
.
They
went
into
the
ancient
parlour
to
tea
,
and
here
they
shared
their
first
common
meal
alone
.
Such
was
their
childishness
,
or
rather
his
,
that
he
found
it
interesting
to
use
the
same
bread
-
and
-
butter
plate
as
herself
,
and
to
brush
crumbs
from
her
lips
with
his
own
.
He
wondered
a
little
that
she
did
not
enter
into
these
frivolities
with
his
own
zest
.
Looking
at
her
silently
for
a
long
time
;
“
She
is
a
dear
dear
Tess
,
”
he
thought
to
himself
,
as
one
deciding
on
the
true
construction
of
a
difficult
passage
.
“
Do
I
realize
solemnly
enough
how
utterly
and
irretrievably
this
little
womanly
thing
is
the
creature
of
my
good
or
bad
faith
and
fortune
?
I
think
not
.
I
think
I
could
not
,
unless
I
were
a
woman
myself
.
What
I
am
in
worldly
estate
,
she
is
.
What
I
become
,
she
must
become
.
What
I
cannot
be
,
she
cannot
be
.
And
shall
I
ever
neglect
her
,
or
hurt
her
,
or
even
forget
to
consider
her
?
God
forbid
such
a
crime
!
”
They
sat
on
over
the
tea
-
table
waiting
for
their
luggage
,
which
the
dairyman
had
promised
to
send
before
it
grew
dark
.
But
evening
began
to
close
in
,
and
the
luggage
did
not
arrive
,
and
they
had
brought
nothing
more
than
they
stood
in
.
With
the
departure
of
the
sun
the
calm
mood
of
the
winter
day
changed
.
Out
of
doors
there
began
noises
as
of
silk
smartly
rubbed
;
the
restful
dead
leaves
of
the
preceding
autumn
were
stirred
to
irritated
resurrection
,
and
whirled
about
unwillingly
,
and
tapped
against
the
shutters
.
It
soon
began
to
rain
.
“
That
cock
knew
the
weather
was
going
to
change
,
”
said
Clare
.
The
woman
who
had
attended
upon
them
had
gone
home
for
the
night
,
but
she
had
placed
candles
upon
the
table
,
and
now
they
lit
them
.
Each
candle
-
flame
drew
towards
the
fireplace
.
“
These
old
houses
are
so
draughty
,
”
continued
Angel
,
looking
at
the
flames
,
and
at
the
grease
guttering
down
the
sides
.
“
I
wonder
where
that
luggage
is
.
We
haven
’
t
even
a
brush
and
comb
.
”
“
I
don
’
t
know
,
”
she
answered
,
absent
-
minded
.
