his hat, and let them pass.

Maurice had his hand on her wrist, and he dragged her after him, over
the frozen pavements, far more quickly than she could in comfort go,
hampered as she was by snow-boots and by her heavy cloak. But she
followed him, allowed herself to be drawn, without protest. She felt
strangely will-less. Only sometimes, when the thought of the indignity
he had laid upon her came over her anew, did she whisper: "How dare
you! ... oh, how dare you!"

He did not look at her, or answer her, and all might have gone well, so
oddly did this treatment affect her, had he only persisted in it. But
the mere contact of her hand softened him towards her; her nearness
worked on him as it never failed to do. He was exhausted, too, mentally
and physically, and at the thought that, for this night at least, his
sufferings were over, he could have shed tears of relief. Slackening
his pace, he began to speak, began to excuse and exculpate himself
before ever she had blamed him, endeavouring to make her understand
something of what he had gone through. In advance, and before she had
expressed it, he sought to break down her spirit of animosity.

The longer he spoke, the harder she felt herself grow. He was at it
again, back at his eternal self-justification. Oh, why, for this one
evening at least, could he not have enforced his will, and have made
her do what he wished, without explanation! But the one plain, simple
way was the only way he never thought of taking. "I hate you and
despise you! I shall never forgive you for your behaviour
to-night!--never!" And now it was she who pressed forward, to get away
from him.

He turned the key in the house-door. But before he could open the door,
Louise, pushing in front of him, threw it back, entered the house, and,
the next moment, the door banged in his face. He had just time to
withdraw his hand. He heard her steps on the stair, mounting, growing
fainter; he heard the door above open and shut.

For a second or two, he stood listening to these sounds. But when it
dawned on him that she had shut him out, he pressed both hands against
the wood of the heavy door, and tried to shake it open. He even beat
his fist against it, and only desisted from this when his knuckles
began to smart.

Then, on looking down, he saw that the key was still in the lock. He
stared at it, stupidly, without understanding. But, yes--it was his own
key; he himself had put it in. He took it out again