"Oh, Kenneth—let's go away to-morrow! Let's go back to Millstead! Oh, I can't bear this any more—I've been miserable ever since I came. I told you it would all go wrong, Kenneth!—Kenneth, I have tried, but it's no good—I can't be happy!—Take me away to-morrow, Kenneth. Kenneth, if you don't I shall run away myself—I simply can't bear any more of it. You've hated me ever since you came here, because I don't make you feel proud of me. Oh, I wish I did—I do wish I could! But I've tried so many times—I've made myself sick with trying—and now that I know it's no good, let me go back to Millstead where I can give up trying for a while. Kenneth, be kind to me—I can't help it—I can't help not being all that you want me to be!"
She held out her arms for him to have taken hold of, but he stood aside.
"I think perhaps a return to Millstead would be the best thing we could do," he said, calmly. "We certainly don't seem to be having a very exhilarating time here.... Breakfast is at ten, I think. That means that the car can take us down to catch the 11.50.... I'd better 'phone Burton in the morning, then he can air the place for us. Would you like to dine at School to-morrow? I was thinking that probably your father would invite us if he knew we were coming back so soon?"
It was in his mind that perhaps he could scheme some trap at the Head's dinner-table that would enmesh them both.
She said drearily: "Oh, I don't mind, Kenneth. Just whatever you want."
"Very well," he replied, and said no more.
He lay awake until he fancied it must be almost dawn, and all the time he was acutely miserable. He was so achingly sorry for her, and yet the suspicion in his mind fortified him against all kindly impulses. He felt that he would never again weakly give way to her, because the thought of her duplicity would give him strength, strength even against her tears and misery. And yet there was one thing the thought of her duplicity did not give him; it did not give him peace. It made him bitter, unrestful, an
gry with the world.
And he decided, just before he went to sleep, that these new circumstances that had arisen justified him in taking what attitude he liked towards Clare. If he wanted to see her he would see her. He would no longer make sacrifices of his friends for Helen's sake.