Alwynne forced a smile.
"Yes." She crossed the threshold, Clare watching from the doorway.
"I shall wait for you, we'll have a lazy evening. Supper at eight."
There was no answer. Alwynne was stumbling down into the darkness of the stairs and did not seem to hear. Clare turned back into her flat, hesitated uneasily, and came out again. She leaned far over the balustrade, peering down.
"Alwynne!" she cried. "Alwynne! Wait a moment, Alwynne!"
But Alwynne was gone, gone beyond recall.
CHAPTER XLV
Alwynne fled down Friar's Lane in amazement, conscious only of the need of escape. She had heard the outer door of the flat close behind her, yet she felt herself pursued. Clare's voice rang in her ears. Momently she awaited the touch of Clare's hand upon her shoulder. She felt herself exhausted; knew that, once overtaken, she would be powerless to resist; that she would be led back; would submit to reconciliation and caresses. And yet she was sure that she would never willingly see Clare again. She was free, and her terror of recapture taught her what liberty meant to her. There was the whole world before her, and Elsbeth—and Roger.... She must find Roger.... She was capable of no clear thought, but very sure that with him was safety.