Betrothal -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction; Families -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
“And he isn’t a stupid fool neither ... he’ll always know he might have
been something decent. If I thought I had any influence over him I’d
tell him to kidnap Katie to-morrow, carry her up north, and keep her
there.”
Mrs. Trenchard had listened to him with great attention; her eyes had
never left his face, nor had her body moved. She rose, now, very slowly
from her chair, gathered her notes together carefully, walked to the
door, turned to him, saying:
“How you do despise us all, Tim!” then left the room.
* * * * *
After luncheon they started off. Philip, sitting next to Katherine in
the waggonette, was very silent during the drive; he was silent because
he was determined that it was on this afternoon that he would tell
Katherine about Anna.
Without turning directly round to her he could see her profile, her dark
hair a little loose and untidy, her cheek flushed with pleasure, her
eyes smiling. “No, she’s not pretty,” he thought. “But she’s better than
that. I can’t see what she’s like—it’s as though she were something so
close to me and so precious that I could never see it, only feel that it
was there. And yet, although I feel that she’s unattainable too—she’s
something I can never hold completely, because I shall always be a
little frightened of her.”
He made this discovery, that he was frightened, quite suddenly, sitting
there on that lovely afternoon; he saw the shadows from the clouds,
swooping, like black birds, down over the valley beneath him: far beyond
him he saw a thread of yellow running beside the water of the stream
that was now blue in the sunshine and now dark under the hill; there
were hosts of primroses down there, and the hedges that now closed the
carriage were sheeted with gold: when the hedges broke the meadows
beyond them flowed, through the mist, like green clouds, to the hazy
sea; the world throbbed with a rhythm that he could hear quite clearly
behind the clap-clap of the horses’ hoofs—‘hum—hum—hum—hum’—The air
was warm, with a little breath of cold in it; the dark soil in the
ditches glistened as though, very lately, it had been frozen.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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