He had gone into that house, only half an
hour ago, determined to leave Maggie for ever--for his good and
hers. He came back into the street realising that he was now,
perhaps for the first time, quite definitely involved in some
relation with her--good, bad, safe, dangerous he did not know--but
involved. He had intended to tell her nothing of his marriage--and
he had told her. He had intended to treat their whole meeting as
something light, passing, inconsiderable--he had instead treated it
as something of the utmost gravity. He had intended, above all, to
prove to himself that he could do what he wished--he had found that
he had no power.
And so, as he stepped through the dim gold-dust of the evening light
he was stirred with an immense sense of having stepped, definitely
at last, across the threshold of new adventure and enterprise. All
kinds of problems were awaiting solution--his relation to his
father, his mother, his sister, his home, his past, his future, his
sins and his weaknesses--and he had meant to solve them all, as he
had often solved them in the past, by simply cutting adrift.
Pages:
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343