Page 421 - sons-and-lovers

The brown birds dashed over the hedges where the rose-
hips stood naked and scarlet.
‘Got where?’ he asked.
‘At me. He never really mattered to me.’
The afternoon was so gently warm and dim. Red roofs
of the cottages burned among the blue haze. He loved the
day. He could feel, but he could not understand, what Clara
was saying.
‘But why did you leave him? Was he horrid to you?’
She shuddered lightly.
‘He—he sort of degraded me. He wanted to bully me be-
cause he hadn’t got me. And then I felt as if I wanted to run,
as if I was fastened and bound up. And he seemed dirty.’
‘I see.’
He did not at all see.
‘And was he always dirty?’ he asked.
‘A bit,’ she replied slowly. ‘And then he seemed as if he
couldn’t get AT me, really. And then he got brutal—he WAS
brutal!’
‘And why did you leave him finally?’
‘Because—because he was unfaithful to me—-‘
They were both silent for some time. Her hand lay on the
gate-post as she balanced. He put his own over it. His heart
beat quickly.
‘But did you—were you ever—did you ever give him a
chance?’
‘Chance? How?’
‘To come near to you.’
‘I married him—and I was willing—-‘

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