Page 504 - sons-and-lovers

‘But why?’
‘I do—I want to catch the train.’
Suddenly his voice altered.
‘Very well,’ he said, dry and hard. ‘Come along, then.’
And he plunged ahead into the darkness. She ran after
him, wanting to cry. Now he was hard and cruel to her. She
ran over the rough, dark fields behind him, out of breath,
ready to drop. But the double row of lights at the station
drew nearer. Suddenly:
‘There she is!’ he cried, breaking into a run.
There was a faint rattling noise. Away to the right the
train, like a luminous caterpillar, was threading across the
night. The rattling ceased.
‘She’s over the viaduct. You’ll just do it.’
Clara ran, quite out of breath, and fell at last into the
train. The whistle blew. He was gone. Gone!—and she was
in a carriage full of people. She felt the cruelty of it.
He turned round and plunged home. Before he knew
where he was he was in the kitchen at home. He was very
pale. His eyes were dark and dangerous-looking, as if he
were drunk. His mother looked at him.
‘Well, I must say your boots are in a nice state!’ she said.
He looked at his feet. Then he took off his overcoat. His
mother wondered if he were drunk.
‘She caught the train then?’ she said.
‘Yes.’
‘I hope HER feet weren’t so filthy. Where on earth you
dragged her I don’t know!’
He was silent and motionless for some time.

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