His consciousness seemed to split.

The place where she was touching him ran hot with friction.

He was one internecine battle, and he became cruel to her because of it.
One evening in midsummer Miriam called at the house, warm from climbing.
Paul was alone in the kitchen; his mother could be heard moving about upstairs.
"Come and look at the sweet-peas," he said to the girl.
They went into the garden.

The sky behind the townlet and the church was orange-red; the flower-garden was flooded with a strange warm light that lifted every leaf into significance.

Paul passed along a fine row of sweet-peas, gathering a blossom here and there, all cream and pale blue.
Miriam followed, breathing the fragrance.