met a pair of brown eyes which hated him. But he did not know. He and Clara turned away, mechanically taking the direction to the station.
The train had gone. He would have to walk the ten miles home.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I shall enjoy it.”
“Won’t you,” she said, flushing, “come home for the night? I can sleep with mother.”
He looked at her. Their eyes met.
“What will your mother say?” he asked.
“She won’t mind.”
“You’re sure?”
“Quite!”
“Shall I come?”
“If you will.”
“Very well.”
And they turned away. At the first stopping-place they took the car. The wind blew fresh in their faces. The town was dark; the tram tipped in its haste. He sat with her hand fast in his.
“Will your mother be gone to bed?” he asked.
“She may be. I hope not.”
They hurried along the silent, dark little street, the only people out of doors. Clara quickly entered the house. He hesitated.
“Come in,” she said.
He leaped up the step and was in the room. Her mother appeared in the inner doorway, large and hostile.
“Who have you got there?” she asked.
“It’s Mr. Morel; he has missed his train. I thought we might put him up for the night, and save him a ten-mile walk.”
“H’m!” exclaimed Mrs. Radford. “That’s your lookout! If you’ve invited him, he’s very welcome as far as I’m concerned. You keep the house!”
“If you don’t like me, I’ll go away again,” he said.
“Nay, nay, you needn’t! Come along in! I dunno what you’ll think of the supper I’d got her.”
It was a little dish of chip potatoes and a piece of bacon. The table was roughly laid for one.
“You can have some more bacon,” continued Mrs. Radford. “More chips you can’t have.”
“It’s a shame to bother you,” he said.
“Oh, don’t you be apologetic! It doesn’t do wi’ me! You
