"I want my bike," the girl said sulkily. "I left it inside this morning."
"Ah, your bicycle! Yes, you did." He unlocked the door, "Wait, there should be a candle, there should be."
She stood in the doorway until he had lit it.
"Come in, Kate," he said, "let me give you something. I think there is some milk, certainly I have some cake, come in, Kate, or do you drink beer, I have beer, come in, I'll make you something hot."
But Kate only took her bicycle. "I ought to have been home hours ago," she said darkly, wheeling it outside and lighting the lantern. He watched her silently as she dabbed the wick; the pallor of her hands had never appeared so marked.
"Let's be kind to each other," he said, detaining her, "don't go, dear Kate."
She pushed her bicycle out into the road.
"Won't you see me again?" he asked as she mounted it.
"I am always seeing you," she called back, but her meaning was dark to him.