Thus gravely meditating, she was summoned by him. He sent up Crane in the motor. Other servants passed like water, but the chauffeur remained, though impertinent and disloyal. Margaret disliked Crane, and he knew it.
“Is it the keys that Mr. Wilcox wants?” she asked.
“He didn’t say, madam.”
“You haven’t any note for me?”
“He didn’t say, madam.”
After a moment’s thought she locked up Howards End. It was pitiable to see in it the stirrings of warmth that would be quenched for ever. She raked out the fire that was blazing in the kitchen, and spread the coals in the gravelled yard. She closed the windows and drew the curtains. Henry would probably sell the place now.
She was determined not to spare him, for nothing new had happened as far as they were concerned. Her mood might never have altered from yesterday evening. He was standing a little outside Charles’s gate, and motioned the car to stop. When his wife got out he said hoarsely: “I prefer to discuss things with you outside.”
“It will be more appropriate in the road, I am afraid,” said Margaret. “Did you get my message?”
“What about?”
“I am going to Germany with my sister. I must tell you now that I shall make it my permanent home. Our talk last night was more important than you have realized. I am unable to forgive you and am leaving you.”