At the edge of the wood, half a mile from North Dormer, Harney jumped
from his bicycle, took Charity in his arms for a last kiss, and then
waited while she went on alone.
They were later than usual, and instead of taking the bicycle to the
library she propped it against the back of the wood-shed and entered the
kitchen of the red house. Verena sat there alone; when Charity came in
she looked at her with mild impenetrable eyes and then took a plate
and a glass of milk from the shelf and set them silently on the table.
Charity nodded her thanks, and sitting down, fell hungrily upon her
piece of pie and emptied the glass. Her face burned with her quick
flight through the night, and her eyes were dazzled by the twinkle of
the kitchen lamp. She felt like a night-bird suddenly caught and caged.
"He ain't come back since supper," Verena said. "He's down to the Hall."
Charity took no notice. Her soul was still winging through the forest.
She washed her plate and tumbler, and then felt her way up the dark
stairs.
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