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to the pine trees at the foot of the downs； everything was newly
washed into being； in a flood of new； golden creation。
It was so unutterably still and perfect with promise； the
goldenlighted； distinct land； that Ursula's soul rocked and
wept。 Suddenly he glanced at her。 The tears were running over
her cheeks； her mouth was working strangely。
〃What is the matter？〃 he asked。
After a moment's struggle with her voice。
〃It is so beautiful；〃 she said； looking at the glowing；
beautiful land。 It was so beautiful； so perfect； and so
unsullied。
He too realized what England would be in a few hours'
timea blind； sordid； strenuous activity； all for nothing；
fuming with dirty smoke and running trains and groping in the
bowels of the earth； all for nothing。 A ghastliness came over
him。
He looked at Ursula。 Her face was wet with tears； very
bright； like a transfiguration in the refulgent light。 Nor was
his the hand to wipe away the burning； bright tears。 He stood
apart； overe by a cruel ineffectuality。
Gradually a great； helpless sorrow was rising in him。 But as
yet he was fighting it away； he was struggling for his own life。
He became very quiet and unaware of the things about him；
awaiting； as it were； her judgment on him。
They returned to Nottingham； the time of her examination
came。 She must go to London。 But she would not stay with him in
an hotel。 She would go to a quiet little pension near the
British Museum。
Those quiet residential squares of London made a great
impression on her mind。 They were very plete。 Her mind seemed
imprisoned in their quietness。 Who was going to liberate
her？
In the evening； her practical examinations being over； he
went with her to dinner at one of the hotels down the river；
near Richmond。 It was golden and beautiful； with yellow water
and white and scarletstriped boatawnings； and blue shadows
under the trees。
〃When shall we be married？〃 he asked her； quietly； simply； as
if it fort。
She watched the changing pleasuretraffic of the river。 He
looked at her golden； puzzled museau。 The knot gathered
in his throat。
〃I don't know；〃 she said。
A hot grief gripped his throat。
〃Why don't you knowdon't you want to be married？〃 he
asked her。
Her head turned slowly； her face； puzzled； like a boy's face；
expressionless because she was trying to think； looked towards
his face。 She did not see him； because she was preoccupied。 She
did not quite know what she was going to say。
〃I don't think I want to be married；〃 she said； and her
naive； troubled； puzzled eyes rested a moment on his； then
travelled away； preoccupied。
〃Do you mean never； or not just yet？〃 he asked。
The knot in his throat grew harder； his face was drawn as if
he were being strangled。
〃I mean never；〃 she said； out of some far self which spoke
for once beyond her。
His drawn； strangled face watched her blankly for a few
moments； then a strange sound took place in his throat。 She
started； came to herself； and； horrified； saw him。 His head made
a queer motion； the chin jerked back against the throat； the
curious； crowing； hiccupping sound came again； his face twisted
like insanity； and he was crying； crying blind and twisted as if
something were broken which kept him in control。
〃Tonydon't；〃 she cried； starting up。
It tore every one of her nerves to see him。 He made groping
movements to get out of his chair。 But he was crying
uncontrollably； noiselessly； with his face twisted like a mask；
contorted and the tears running down the amazing grooves in his
cheeks。 Blindly； his face always this horrible working mask； he
groped for his hat； for his way down from the terrace。 It was
eight o'clock； but still brightly light。 The other people were
staring。 In great agitation； part of which was exasperation； she
stayed behind； paid the waiter with a halfsovereign； took her
yellow silk coat； then followed Skrebensky。
She saw him walking with brittle； blind steps along the path
by the river。 She could tell by the strange stiffness and
brittleness of his figure that he was still crying。 Hurrying
after him； running； she took his arm。
〃Tony；〃 she cried； 〃don't！ Why are you like this？ What are
you doing this for？ Don't。 It's not necessary。〃
He heard； and his manhood was cruelly； coldly defaced。 Yet it
was no good。 He could not gain control of his face。 His face；
his breast； were weeping violently； as if automatically。 His
will； his knowledge had nothing to do with it。 He simply could
not stop。
She walked holding his arm； silent with exasperation and
perplexity and pain。 He took the uncertain steps of a blind man；
because his mind was blind with weeping。
〃Shall we go home？ Shall we have a taxi？〃 she said。
He could pay no attention。 Very flustered； very agitated； she
signalled indefinitely to a taxicab that was going slowly by。
The driver saluted and drew up。 She opened the door and pushed
Skrebensky in； then took her own place。 Her face was uplifted；
the mouth closed down； she looked hard and cold and ashamed。 She
winced as the driver's dark red face was thrust round upon her；
a fullblooded； animal face with black eyebrows and a thick；
shortcut moustache。
〃Where to； lady？〃 he said； his white teeth showing。 Again for
a moment she was flustered。
〃Forty； Rutland Square；〃 she said。
He touched his cap and stolidly set the car in motion。 He
seemed to have a league with her to ignore Skrebensky。
The latter sat as if trapped within the taxicab； his face
still working； whilst occasionally he made quick slight
movements of the head； to shake away his tears。 He never moved
his hands。 She could not bear to look at him。 She sat with face
uplifted and averted to the window。
At length； when she had regained some control over herself；
she turned again to him。 He was much quieter。 His face was wet；
and twitched occasionally； his hands still lay motionless。 But
his eyes were quite still； like a washed sky after rain； full of
a ost ghostlike。
A pain flamed in her womb； for him。
〃I didn't think I should hurt you；〃 she said； laying her hand
very lightly； tentatively； on his arm。 〃The words came without
my knowing。 They didn't mean anything； really。〃
He remained quite still； hearing； but washed all wan and
without feeling。 She waited； looking at him； as if he were some
curious； notunderstandable creature。
〃You won't cry again； will you； Tony？〃
Some shame and bitterness against her burned him in the
question。 She noticed how his moustache was soddened wet with
tears。 Taking her handkerchief； she wiped his face。 The driver's
heavy； stolid back remained always turned to them； as if
conscious but indifferent。 Skrebensky sat motionless whilst
Ursula wiped his face； softly； carefully； and yet clumsily； not
as well as he would have wiped it himself。
Her handkerchief was too small。 It was soon wet through。 She
groped in his pocket for his own。 Then； with its more ample
capacity； she carefully dried his face。 He remained motionless
all the while。 Then she drew his cheek to hers and kissed him。
His face was cold。 Her heart was hurt。 She saw the tears welling
quickly to his eyes again。 As if he were a child； she again
wiped away his tears。 By now she herself was on the point of
weeping。 Her underlip was caught between her teeth。
So she sat still； for fear of her own tears； sitting close by
him； holding his hand warm and close and loving。 Meanwhile the
car ran on； and a soft； midsummer dusk began to gather。 For a
long while they sat motionless。 Only now and again her hand
closed more closely； lovingly； over his hand； then gradually
relaxed。
The dusk began to fall。 One or two lights appeared。 The
driver drew up to light his lamps。 Skrebensky moved for the
first time； leaning forward to watch the driver。 His face had
always the same still； clarified； almost childlike look；
impersonal。
They saw the driver's strange； full； dark face peering into
the lamps under drawn brows。 Ursula shuddered。 It was the face
almost of an animal yet of a quick； strong； wary animal that had
them within its knowledge； almost within its power。 She clung
closer to Krebensky。
〃My love？〃 she said to him； questioningl