She seemed to hesitate. The wish to possess was strong, but to accept would be a compromise of dignity. No. She put it down and turned away.

“You won’t have it, then, Polly?”

“I would rather not, thank you.”

“Shall I tell you what I will do with the picture if you refuse it?”

She half turned to listen.

“Cut it into strips for lighting the taper.”

“No!”

“But I shall.”

“Please⁠—don’t.”

Graham waxed inexorable on hearing the pleading tone; he took the scissors from his mother’s workbasket.