The wind carried his voice over the sleeping flowers, and the wet grass down to the broken seat and flung it at her. She slipped out of her place and stole off towards the piece of ground that was still unreclaimed bush; she could not bear his presence yet. But he saw her white flitting dress and followed.
‘The dew’s as heavy as it can be, you’ll get another cold,’ he said, ‘come in.’
She shook her head without looking at him.
‘Come in, and don’t be a silly child,’ he said.
Again she shook her head and walked on.
But he caught her arm and turned her gently but firmly round.
‘I don’t want to have to carry you,’ he said. Then he threw his cigar away and spoke gravely.
‘Look here, Dot, I’m not going to say anything more about this afternoon, we’ll let that go, all I want you to understand is you must give up being childish, and act in a way [p 56] ]that befits a married woman. I’m tired of this.’
Dot did not speak, she hardly heard the words in fact, only the cold tone they were spoken in. She wondered vaguely if her love had been dying for a long time or if to-night was only the beginning. She hoped she should not live long, she felt quite glad to think the doctor had said she had no constitution; how could she go on living if calm careless affection was going to take the place of the wonderful love that had once made a glory of their every hour. They had both been incredulous of the existence of such a place as the dead level of matrimony—was this it indeed they had already come upon?
‘Well?’ said Larrie, ‘I’m waiting, Dot, are you going to give it up?’