She said nothing.
He felt that anger, of which he had tried now for many years to beware, flooding his throat.
With tremendous self-control he said quietly: "What is the matter with you, Amy? You must tell me at once."
She did not open her eyes but said in a voice so low that he scarcely caught the words:
"There is nothing the matter. I am not ill, and I'm not coming to Early Service."
"Why?"
"Because I don't wish to go."
For a moment he thought that he was going to bend down and lift her bodily out of bed. His limbs felt as though they were prepared for such an action.
But to his own surprised amazement he did nothing, he said nothing. He looked at the bed, at the hollow where his head had been, at her head with her black hair scattered on the pillow, at her closed eyes, then he went away into his dressing-room. When he had finished dressing he came back into the bedroom, looked across at her, motionless, her eyes still closed, lying on her side, felt the silence of the room, the house, the Precincts broken only by the impertinent jackdaw.
He went downstairs.