something vital, not as
a man goes for pleasure to a prostitute, if he told his mother.

"Yes," he said, "and she is coming to tea on Sunday."

"To your house?"

"Yes; I want mater to see her."

"Ah!"

There was a silence. Things had gone quicker than she thought. She felt
a sudden bitterness that he could leave her so soon and so entirely.
And was Clara to be accepted by his people, who had been so hostile to
herself?

"I may call in as I go to chapel," she said. "It is a long time since I
saw Clara."

"Very well," he said, astonished, and unconsciously angry.

On the Sunday afternoon he went to Keston to meet Clara at the station.
As he stood on the platform he was trying to examine in himself if he
had a premonition.

"Do I FEEL as if she'd come?" he said to himself, and he tried to find
out. His heart felt queer and contracted. That seemed like foreboding.
Then he HAD a foreboding she would not come! Then she would not come,
and instead of taking her over the fields home, as he had imagined,
he would have to go alone. The train was late; the afternoon would
be wasted, and the evening. He hated her for not coming. Why had she
promised, then, if she could not keep her promise? Perhaps she had
missed her train--he himself was always missing trains--but that was no
reason why she should miss this particular one. He was angry with her;
he was furious.

Suddenly he saw the train crawling, sneaking round the corner. Here,
then, was the train, but of course she had not come. The green engine
hissed along the platform, the row of brown carriages drew up, several
doors opened. No; she had not come! No! Yes; ah, there she was! She had
a big black hat on! He was at her side in a moment.

"I thought you weren't coming," he said.

She was laughing rather breathlessly as she put out her hand to him;
their eyes met. He took her quickly along the platform, talking at a
great rate to hide his feeling. She looked beautiful. In her hat were
large silk roses, coloured like tarnished gold. Her costume of dark
cloth fitted so beautifully over her breast and shoulders. His pride
went up as he walked with her. He felt the station people, who knew him,
eyed her with awe and admiration.

"I was sure you weren't coming," he laughed shakily.

She laughed in answer, almost with a little cry.

"And I wondered, when I was in the train, WHATEVER I should do if you
weren't there!" she said.

He caught her hand impulsively, and