ed only by a
poor, sparse hedge, a few yards in length. Somebody was pushing his way
through this hedge. It was Edwin Clayhanger. Despite the darkness of the
night she could be sure that the dim figure was Edwin Clayhanger's by
the peculiar, exaggerated swing of the loose arms. He passed the hedge,
carelessly brushed his clothes with his hands, and walked slowly up the
Clayhanger garden towards the new house, and in the deep shadow of the
house was lost. Still, she could catch vague noises of movement. In a
state of extreme excitation she wondered what he could be doing. It
seemed to her that he and she were sharing the night together.

III

She thought:

"I would give anything to be able to speak to him privately and ask him
a little more about what he said to-night. I ought to. I may never see
him again. At any rate, I may never have another chance. He may have
meant something else. He may not have been serious...." The skin of her
face prickled, and a physical wave of emotion seemed to sweep downwards
through her whole body. The thrill was exquisite, but it was
intimidating.

She whispered to herself:

"I could go downstairs and outside, and find him, and just ask him."

The next instant she was opening the door of her bedroom.... No, all the
household had not yet retired, for a light was still burning in the
corridor. Nevertheless she might go. She descended the stairs, asking
herself aghast: "Why am I doing this?" Another light was burning in the
hall, and through the slit of the half-shut door of the breakfast-room
she could see light. She stood hesitant. Then she heard the striking of
a match in the breakfast-room, and she boldly pushed the door open. Tom,
with a book before him, was lighting his pipe.

"Hello!" he said. "What's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing!" she replied. "Only, I'm just going to walk about in the
garden a minute. I shan't go to sleep unless I do." She spoke quite
easily.

"All serene!" he agreed. "So long as you keep off the grass! It's bound
to be damp. I'll unchain the door for you, shall I?"

She said that she could unfasten the door for herself, and he did not
insist. The hospitality of the Orgreaves was never irksome. Tom had
scarcely half-risen from his chair.

"I shan't be long," she added casually.

"That's all right, Hilda," he said. "I'm not going to bed just yet."

"All the others gone?"

He nodded. She pulled the door to, tripped delicately through the hall,
and un