Dona stared moodily out of the window, her chin cupped in her hands. The
children were still asleep, that was one blessing, and even Prue, their nurse, her
mouth open and her face flushed, had not stirred for two hours or more. Poor
Henrietta had been sick for the fourth time, and now lay pale and wan, a tiny
edition of Harry, her golden head against the nurse's shoulder, James never stirred;
his was the true deep sleep of babyhood, he would not wake perhaps until they
reached their destination. And then-what pitiful anti-climax awaited them! Damp
beds no doubt, and closed shutters, the mouldy, stifling smell of unused rooms, the
irritation of surprised, disgruntled servants. And all because of an impulse blindly
obeyed, a sudden boiling up of resentment against the futility of her life, those
endless suppers, dinners, card-parties, those foolish pranks worthy only of an
apprentice boy on holiday, that stupid flirtation with Rockingham, and Harry
himself, so lazy, so easy-going, fulfilling too well the part of perfect husband with
his tolerance, his yawn before midnight, his placid and sleepy adoration. This sense
of futility had been growing upon her for many months, nagging at her now and
again like dormant toothache, but it had taken Friday night to rouse in her that full
sense of self-loathing and exasperation, and because of Friday night she was jolting
backwards and forwards now in this damnable coach, bound on a ridiculous
journey to a house she had seen once in her life and knew nothing about, carrying
with her, in anger and irritation, the two surprised children and their reluctant
nurse.
She was obeying an impulse, of course, as she always had done, from the
beginning, throughout her life, following a whisper, a suggestion, that sprang into
being from nowhere and mocked at her afterwards. She had married Harry on
impulse, because of his laugh-its funny lazy quality had attracted her-and because
she had thought that the expression in his blue eyes meant much more than it didand
now she realised that after all... but then those were things one did not admit,
not even to oneself, and what was the use, the thing was done, and here she was
with her two great children, and next month anyway she would be thirty.