tinent and disloyal. Margaret disliked Crane, and he knew it.
"Is it the keys that Mr. Wilcox wants?" she asked.
"He didn't say, madam."
"You haven't any note for me?"
"He didn't say, madam."
After a moment's thought she locked up Howards End. It was pitiable to see in it the stirrings of warmth that would be quenched for ever. She raked out the fire that was blazing in the kitchen, and spread the coals in the gravelled yard. She closed the windows and drew the curtains. Henry would probably sell the place now.
She was determined not to spare him, for nothing new had happened as far as they were concerned. Her mood might never have altered from yesterday evening. He was standing a little outside Charles's gate, and motioned the car to stop. When his wife got out he said hoarsely: "I prefer to discuss things with you outside."
"It will be more appropriate in the road, I am afraid," said Margaret. "Did you get my message?"
"What about?"
"I am going to Germany with my sister. I must tell you now that I shall make it my permanent home. Our talk last night was more important than you have realized. I am unable to forgive you and am leaving you."
"I am extremely tired," said Henry, in injured tones. "I have been walking about all the morning, and wish to sit down."
"Certainly, if you will consent to sit on the grass."
The Great North Road should have been bordered all its length with glebe. Henry's kind had filched most of it. She moved to the scrap opposite, wherein were the Six Hills. They sat down on the farther side, so that they could not be seen by Charles or Dolly.
"Here are your keys," said Margaret. She tossed them towards him. They fell on the sunlit slope of grass, and he did not pick them up.
