Page 500 - sons-and-lovers

After chapel he went over Pentrich with Clara. It was a
dark autumn night. They had said good-bye to Miriam, and
his heart had smitten him as he left the girl alone. ‘But it
serves her right,’ he said inside himself, and it almost gave
him pleasure to go off under her eyes with this other hand-
some woman.
There was a scent of damp leaves in the darkness. Clara’s
hand lay warm and inert in his own as they walked. He was
full of conflict. The battle that raged inside him made him
feel desperate.
Up Pentrich Hill Clara leaned against him as he went. He
slid his arm round her waist. Feeling the strong motion of
her body under his arm as she walked, the tightness in his
chest because of Miriam relaxed, and the hot blood bathed
him. He held her closer and closer.
Then: ‘You still keep on with Miriam,’ she said quietly.
‘Only talk. There never WAS a great deal more than talk
between us,’ he said bitterly.
‘Your mother doesn’t care for her,’ said Clara.
‘No, or I might have married her. But it’s all up really!’
Suddenly his voice went passionate with hate.
‘If I was with her now, we should be jawing about the
‘Christian Mystery’, or some such tack. Thank God, I’m
not!’
They walked on in silence for some time.
‘But you can’t really give her up,’ said Clara.
‘I don’t give her up, because there’s nothing to give,’ he
said.
‘There is for her.’