A terrible sobriety had fallen upon him; his lips quivered; cold currents ran down his spine.

He looked at Irene with the eyes of a dog entreating mercy.
"Had I"-- his dry throat forced him to begin again--"had I better go now ?" "That is as you think fit." Piers stood up, bowed before her, gave her one humble, imploring look, and walked away.
He went down, as though to the supper-room; in a few minutes, he had left the house.

He walked to Waterloo Station, and by the last train returned to Ewell..