Page 502 - sons-and-lovers

She sighed and walked dizzily beside him. They went on
in silence.
‘We will go over the fields,’ he said; and then she woke
up.
But she let herself be helped over the stile, and she walked
in silence with him over the first dark field. It was the way
to Nottingham and to the station, she knew. He seemed to
be looking about. They came out on a bare hilltop where
stood the dark figure of the ruined windmill. There he halt-
ed. They stood together high up in the darkness, looking at
the lights scattered on the night before them, handfuls of
glittering points, villages lying high and low on the dark,
here and there.
‘Like treading among the stars,’ he said, with a quaky
laugh.
Then he took her in his arms, and held her fast. She
moved aside her mouth to ask, dogged and low:
‘What time is it?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he pleaded thickly.
‘Yes it does—yes! I must go!’
‘It’s early yet,’ he said.
‘What time is it?’ she insisted.
All round lay the black night, speckled and spangled
with lights.
‘I don’t know.’
She put her hand on his chest, feeling for his watch. He
felt the joints fuse into fire. She groped in his waistcoat
pocket, while he stood panting. In the darkness she could
see the round, pale face of the watch, but not the figures.

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