It seemed to her a bitter thing that he must go, but she could let him go into an inn for a glass of whisky, so she could let him go to Clara, so long as it was something that would satisfy a need in him, and leave him free for herself to possess.
"Have you told your mother about Clara ?" she asked.
She knew this would be a test of the seriousness of his feeling for the other woman: she knew he was going to Clara for something vital, not as a man goes for pleasure to a prostitute, if he told his mother.
"Yes," he said, "and she is coming to tea on Sunday." "To your house ?" "Yes; I want mater to see her." "Ah!" There was a silence.

Things had gone quicker than she thought.

She felt a sudden bitterness that he could leave her so soon and so entirely.
And was Clara to be accepted by his people, who had been so hostile to herself?
"I may call in as I go to chapel," she said.

"It is a long time since I saw Clara." "Very well," he said, astonished, and unconsciously angry.
On the Sunday afternoon he went to Keston to meet Clara at the station.
As he stood on the platform he was trying to examine in himself if he had a premonition.
"Do I FEEL as if she'd come ?" he said to himself, and he tried to find out.

His heart felt queer and contracted.