"You mustn't make me leave off working. It's my only chance."
They turned restlessly from the fireplace to the couch. They sat one at each end of it, still for a long time, without speaking. The fire died down. The evening darkened in the rain. The twilight came between them, poignant and disquieting, dimming their faces, making them strange and wonderful to each other. Their bodies loomed up through it, wonderful and strange. The high white stone chimney-piece glimmered like an arch into some inner place.
Outside, from the church below the farm house, the bell tinkled for service.
It ceased.
Suddenly they rose and he came towards her to take her in his arms. She beat down his hands and hung on them, keeping him off.
"Don't, Jerry, please, please don't hold me."
"Oh Anne, let me. You let me once. Don't you remember?"
"We can't now. We mustn't."
And yet she knew that it would happen in some time, in some way. But not now. Not like this.
"We mustn't."