He had an unfair advantage--he was free to go off, while she must stay at home with the children.
"There's no knowing what time you'll be home," she said.
"I shan't be late," he answered.
"It's easy to say so," she retorted, with some contempt.

He took his stick, and turned towards the door.
"Bring the children some candles for their tree, and don't be so selfish," she said.
"All right," he said, going out.
"Don't say ALL RIGHT if you never mean to do it," she cried, with sudden anger, following him to the door.
His figure stood large and shadowy in the darkness.
"How many do you want ?" he said.
"A dozen," she said.

"And holders too, if you can get them," she added, with barren bitterness.
"Yes--all right," he turned and melted into the darkness.

She went indoors, worn with a strange and bitter flame.
He crossed the fields towards the little town, which once more fumed its lights under the night.

The country ran away, rising on his right hand.
It was no longer a great bank of darkness.