Page 508 - sons-and-lovers

expressibly. He wanted to run anywhere, so long as it would
be dark again. In a maze, he wandered out for a drink. Then
the lights were out, and the strange, insane reality of Clara
and the drama took hold of him again.
The play went on. But he was obsessed by the desire to
kiss the tiny blue vein that nestled in the bend of her arm.
He could feel it. His whole face seemed suspended till he
had put his lips there. It must be done. And the other peo-
ple! At last he bent quickly forward and touched it with his
lips. His moustache brushed the sensitive flesh. Clara shiv-
ered, drew away her arm.
When all was over, the lights up, the people clapping,
he came to himself and looked at his watch. His train was
gone.
‘I s’ll have to walk home!’ he said.
Clara looked at him.
‘It is too late?’ she asked.
He nodded. Then he helped her on with her coat.
‘I love you! You look beautiful in that dress,’ he mur-
mured over her shoulder, among the throng of bustling
people.
She remained quiet. Together they went out of the the-
atre. He saw the cabs waiting, the people passing. It seemed
he met a pair of brown eyes which hated him. But he did not
know. He and Clara turned away, mechanically taking the
direction to the station.
The train had gone. He would have to walk the ten miles
home.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘I shall enjoy it.’

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