He knew Paul and Clara had practically separated.
Two days after Christmas Paul was to go back to Nottingham.

The evening before he sat with Dawes smoking before the fire.
"You know Clara's coming down for the day to-morrow ?" he said.
The other man glanced at him.
"Yes, you told me," he replied.
Paul drank the remainder of his glass of whisky.
"I told the landlady your wife was coming," he said.
"Did you ?" said Dawes, shrinking, but almost leaving himself in the other's hands.

He got up rather stiffly, and reached for Morel's glass.
"Let me fill you up," he said.
Paul jumped up.
"You sit still," he said.
But Dawes, with rather shaky hand, continued to mix the drink.
"Say when," he said.
"Thanks!" replied the other.

"But you've no business to get up." "It does me good, lad," replied Dawes.

"I begin to think I'm right again, then." "You are about right, you know." "I am, certainly I am," said Dawes, nodding to him.
"And Len says he can get you on in Sheffield." Dawes glanced at him again, with dark eyes that agreed with everything the other would say, perhaps a trifle dominated by him.
"It's funny," said Paul, "starting again.