Sometimes it was a wide old road, with grass-spaces on either
side, flying magic and elfin in the greenish illumination, sometimes it
was trees looming overhead, sometimes it was bramble bushes, sometimes
the walls of a crew-yard and the butt of a barn.
'Are you going to Shortlands to dinner?' Ursula asked him suddenly. He
started.
'Good God!' he said. 'Shortlands! Never again. Not that. Besides we
should be too late.'
'Where are we going then--to the Mill?'
'If you like. Pity to go anywhere on this good dark night. Pity to come
out of it, really. Pity we can't stop in the good darkness. It is
better than anything ever would be--this good immediate darkness.'
She sat wondering. The car lurched and swayed. She knew there was no
leaving him, the darkness held them both and contained them, it was not
to be surpassed Besides she had a full mystic knowledge of his suave
loins of darkness, dark-clad and suave, and in this knowledge there was
some of the inevitability and the beauty of fate, fate which one asks
for, which one accepts in full.
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