Cup of Coffee, Slice of Pie

All the lower wood was in shadows, almost darkness. Yet the sky overhead was crystal. But it shed hardly any light. He came through the lower shadow towards her, his face like a pale blotch.
“Shall we go?” he said.
“Where?”
“I’ll go with you to the gate.”
He arranged things in his own way. He locked the door of the hut and came after her.
“You aren’t sorry, are you?” he asked, as he went to her side.
“No! No! Are you?” she said.
“For that! No!” he said. Then after a while he added: “But there’s the rest of things.”
“What rest of things?” she said.
“Sir Clifford. Other folks. All the complications.”
“Why complications?” she said, disappointed.
“It’s always so. For you as well as for me. There’s always complications.” He walked on steadily in the dark.
“Are you sorry?” she said.
“In a way!” he replied, looking up at the sky. “I’d thought I’d done with it all. Now I’ve begun again.”
“Begun what?”
“Life.”
“Life!” she re-echoed, with a queer thrill.
“It’s life,” he said. “There’s no keeping clear. And if you do keep clear you might almost as well die. So if I’ve got to be broken up again, I have.”
She did not quite see it that way, but still…
“It’s just love,” she said cheerfully.
“Whatever that may be,” he replied
They went on through the darkening wood in silence, till they were almost at the gate.
“But you don’t hate me, do you?” she said wistfully.
“Nay, nay,” he replied. And suddenly he held her fast against his breast again with the old connecting passion. “Nay for me it was good. Was it for you?”
“Yes for me too,” she answered softly.
He kissed her softly, softly with the kisses of warmth.
“If only there weren’t so many people in the world,” he said lugubriously.