Page 503 - sons-and-lovers

She stooped over it. He was panting till he could take her in
his arms again.
‘I can’t see,’ she said.
‘Then don’t bother.’
‘Yes; I’m going!’ she said, turning away.
‘Wait! I’ll look!’ But he could not see. ‘I’ll strike a
match.’
He secretly hoped it was too late to catch the train. She
saw the glowing lantern of his hands as he cradled the light:
then his face lit up, his eyes fixed on the watch. Instantly all
was dark again. All was black before her eyes; only a glow-
ing match was red near her feet. Where was he?
‘What is it?’ she asked, afraid.
‘You can’t do it,’ his voice answered out of the darkness.
There was a pause. She felt in his power. She had heard
the ring in his voice. It frightened her.
‘What time is it?’ she asked, quiet, definite, hopeless.
‘Two minutes to nine,’ he replied, telling the truth with
a struggle.
‘And can I get from here to the station in fourteen min-
utes?’
‘No. At any rate—-‘
She could distinguish his dark form again a yard or so
away. She wanted to escape.
‘But can’t I do it?’ she pleaded.
‘If you hurry,’ he said brusquely. ‘But you could easily
walk it, Clara; it’s only seven miles to the tram. I’ll come
with you.’
‘No; I want to catch the train.’

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