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D
’
Urberville
mechanically
lit
a
cigar
,
and
the
journey
was
continued
with
broken
unemotional
conversation
on
the
commonplace
objects
by
the
wayside
.
He
had
quite
forgotten
his
struggle
to
kiss
her
when
,
in
the
early
summer
,
they
had
driven
in
the
opposite
direction
along
the
same
road
.
But
she
had
not
,
and
she
sat
now
,
like
a
puppet
,
replying
to
his
remarks
in
monosyllables
.
After
some
miles
they
came
in
view
of
the
clump
of
trees
beyond
which
the
village
of
Marlott
stood
.
It
was
only
then
that
her
still
face
showed
the
least
emotion
,
a
tear
or
two
beginning
to
trickle
down
.
“
What
are
you
crying
for
?
”
he
coldly
asked
.
“
I
was
only
thinking
that
I
was
born
over
there
,
”
murmured
Tess
.
“
Well
—
we
must
all
be
born
somewhere
.
”
“
I
wish
I
had
never
been
born
—
there
or
anywhere
else
!
”
“
Pooh
!
Well
,
if
you
didn
’
t
wish
to
come
to
Trantridge
why
did
you
come
?
”
She
did
not
reply
.
“
You
didn
’
t
come
for
love
of
me
,
that
I
’
ll
swear
.
”
“
’
Tis
quite
true
.
If
I
had
gone
for
love
o
’
you
,
if
I
had
ever
sincerely
loved
you
,
if
I
loved
you
still
,
I
should
not
so
loathe
and
hate
myself
for
my
weakness
as
I
do
now
!
.
.
.
My
eyes
were
dazed
by
you
for
a
little
,
and
that
was
all
.
”
He
shrugged
his
shoulders
.
