Clara: (panicking) I say leg it.
Doctor: Leg it where, exactly?
Clara: (quickly) I dunno. Lake District?
Doctor: Oh, the Lake District’s lovely, lets definitely go there. We can eat scones, they do great scones in 1927… (trails off. Brief silence)
Clara: (calmly) You’re going to fight it, aren’t you?
Doctor: Regrettably, yes, I think I may be about to do that.
Clara: I’m staying with you.
Doctor: No, you’re not.
Clara: (annoyed) And what about all that stuff you said? ‘We don’t walk away’?
Doctor: Home again! Home again, jiggyidy-jig.
Clara: Looks different.
Clara: (slowly, a voice of sudden realisation) You were there. My mum’s grave, you were watching. Why were you there?
Doctor: I dunno, I was just making sure.
Clara: Of what?
Doctor: You remind me of someone.
Clara: (getting annoyed) Who?
Doctor: Someone who died.
Clara: (powerfully) Well, whoever she was… I’m not her, okay? If you want me to travel with you, that’s fine. But as me. I’m not a bargain sale of someone, and I’m not going to compete with someone else’s ghost.