“Then I’m not stopping here,” he said. “Are you coming with me?”
She rose mutely, and they went out of the room Adams had not noticed.
In a few moments they were in the street.
“What the hell do you mean?” he said, in a black fury.
She went at his side, in silence, neutral.
“That great hog, an’ all,” he added.
Then they went a long time in silence through the frozen, deserted darkness of the town. She felt she could not go indoors. They were drawing near her house.
“I don’t want to go home,” she suddenly cried in distress and anguish. “I don’t want to go home.”
He looked at her.
“Why don’t you?” he said.
“I don’t want to go home,” was all she could sob.
He heard somebody coming.
“Well, we can walk a bit further,” he said.
She was silent again. They passed out of the town into the fields. He held her by the arm—they could not speak.
“What’s a-matter?” he asked at length, puzzled.
She began to cry again.
At last he took her in his arms, to soothe her. She sobbed by herself, almost unaware of him.
“Tell me what’s a-matter, Elsie,” he said. “Tell me what’s a-matter—my dear—tell me, then——”
He kissed her wet face, and caressed her. She made no response. He was puzzled and tender and miserable.
At length she became quiet. Then he kissed her,
