Page 466 - sons-and-lovers

take her hand.
‘Which way shall we go?’ he asked as they walked in
darkness.
‘I don’t mind.’
‘Then we’ll go up the steps.’
He suddenly turned round. They had passed the Park
steps. She stood still in resentment at his suddenly aban-
doning her. He looked for her. She stood aloof. He caught
her suddenly in his arms, held her strained for a moment,
kissed her. Then he let her go.
‘Come along,’ he said, penitent.
She followed him. He took her hand and kissed her fin-
ger-tips. They went in silence. When they came to the light,
he let go her hand. Neither spoke till they reached the sta-
tion. Then they looked each other in the eyes.
‘Good-night,’ she said.
And he went for his train. His body acted mechanical-
ly. People talked to him. He heard faint echoes answering
them. He was in a delirium. He felt that he would go mad
if Monday did not come at once. On Monday he would see
her again. All himself was pitched there, ahead. Sunday
intervened. He could not bear it. He could not see her till
Monday. And Sunday intervened—hour after hour of ten-
sion. He wanted to beat his head against the door of the
carriage. But he sat still. He drank some whisky on the way
home, but it only made it worse. His mother must not be
upset, that was all. He dissembled, and got quickly to bed.
There he sat, dressed, with his chin on his knees, staring out
of the window at the far hill, with its few lights. He neither