Page:The Works of H G Wells Volume 7.pdf/232

 Now too late he was reflecting upon his resources. There was twenty pounds or more in the post-office savings bank in Putney, but his book was locked up in his box at the Antrobus establishment. Else this infatuated man would certainly have surreptitiously withdrawn the entire sum in order to prolong these journeyings even for a few days. As it was, the shadow of the end fell across his happiness. Strangely enough, in spite of his anxiety and the morning's collapse, he was still in a curious emotional state that was certainly not misery. He was forgetting his imaginings and posings, forgetting himself altogether in his growing appreciation of his companion. The most tangible trouble in his mind was the necessity of breaking the matter to her.

A long stretch uphill tired them long before Stoney Cross was reached, and they dismounted and sat under the shade of a little oak-tree. Near the crest the road looped on itself, so that, looking back, it sloped below them up to the right and then came towards them. About them grew a rich heather. Stunted oaks stood along the edge of a deep ditch by the roadside, and the road was sandy; but below the steepness of the hill where the clustering trees stood thick and tall, it was grey and barred with shadows. Mr. Hoopdriver fumbled clumsily with his cigarettes.

"There's a thing I got to tell you," he said, trying to be perfectly calm.

"Yes?" she said.

"I'd like to jest discuss your plans a bit, y'know."

"I'm very unsettled," said Jessie.