to her. "Yes" -- and she almost cried -- "but there's such a gnawing when I eat nothing, I can't bear it." So I went and made her the food. It's the cancer that gnaws like that at her. I wish she'd die!'
`Come!' said Clara roughly. `I'm going.'
He followed her down the darkness of the sands. He did not come to her. He seemed scarcely aware of her existence. And she was afraid of him, and disliked him.
In the same acute daze they went back to Nottingham. He was always busy, always doing something, always going from one to the other of his friends.
On the Monday he went to see Baxter Dawes. Listless and pale, the man rose to greet the other, clinging to his chair as he held out his hand.
`You shouldn't get up,' said Paul.
Dawes sat down heavily, eyeing Morel with a sort of suspicion.
`Don't you waste your time on me,' he said, `if you've owt better to do.'
`I wanted to come,' said Paul. `Here! I brought you some sweets.'
The invalid put them aside.
`It's not been much of a week-end,' said Morel.
`How's your mother?' asked the other.
`Hardly any different.'
`I thought she was perhaps worse, being as you didn't come on Sunday.'
`I was at Skegness,' said Paul. `I wanted a change.'
The other looked at him with dark eyes. He seemed to be waiting, not quite daring to ask, trusting to be told.
`I went with Clara,' said Paul.
`I knew as much,' said Dawes quietly.
`It was an old promise,' said Paul.
`You have it your own way,' said Dawes.
This was the first time Clara had been definitely mentioned between them.
`Nay,' said Morel slowly; `she's tired of me.'
Again Dawes looked at him.
`Since August she's been getting tired of me,' Morel repeated.
The two men were very quiet together. Paul suggested a game of draughts. They played in silence.
`I s'll go abroad when my mother's dead,' said Paul.
`Abroad!' repeated Dawes.