"I don't know," she said, "what I've been ... what I've done. During
these last weeks I've been terrible to myself--and yet it's better
too. I didn't live a real life before, and now I see things as they
are. I don't love you, John, and so we mustn't marry."
He looked at her and then suddenly wild, furious, shouting at her:
"You mustn't.... You dare not.... Then go if you wish. I don't want
you, do you hear?... I don't want.... I don't want you!"
She turned and walked swiftly into the house. He watched her go, then
with quick stumbling steps hurried into the field below the farm.
There he stood, thinking of nothing, knowing nothing, seeing nothing.
The dusk came up, there had been rain during the day, the mist was in
grey sheets, the wet dank smell of the earth and of the vegetables
amongst which he stood grew stronger as the light faded. He thought of
nothing, nothing at all. He felt in his pocket for his pipe, something
dropped--and he knelt down there on the soaking ground, searching.
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