Mavis walked to the factory wondering how many people had seen her talking to Perigal.  During her morning’s work, her mind was in a turmoil of doubt as to the advisability of meeting Perigal in the evening.  She could not help believing that, should she see him, as was more or less arranged, it would prove an event of much moment in her life, holding infinite possibilities of happiness or disaster.  She knew herself well enough to know that if she were wholly possessed by love for him she would be to him as clay in the hands of the potter.  She could come to no conclusion; even if she had, she could not be certain if she could keep to any resolve she might arrive at.  During her midday meal she remembered how Perigal had said that the “Song of Solomon” might have been written to her.  She opened her Bible, found the “Song” and greedily devoured it.  In her present mood its sensuous beauty entranced her, but she was not a little perplexed by the headings of the chapters.  As with so many others, she found it hard to reconcile the ecclesiastical claims here set forth at the beginning of each chapter with the passionate outpourings of the flesh which followed.  She took the Bible with her to the office, to read the “Song” twice during the interval usually allotted to afternoon tea.

When she got back to Mrs Farthing’s, she was long undecided whether she should go out to meet Perigal.  The leanings of her heart inclined her to keep the appointment, whilst, on the other hand, her strong common sense urged her to decide nothing until Windebank came back.  Windebank she was sure of, whereas she was not so confident of Perigal; but she was forced to admit that the elusive and more subtle personality of the latter appealed more to her imagination than the other’s stability.  Presently, she left her lodgings and walked slowly towards the canal, which was in a contrary direction to that in which lay the Avon.  The calm of the still water inclined her to sadness.  She idled along the towpath, plucking carelessly at the purple vetch which bordered the canal in luxuriant profusion.  More than once, she was possessed by the idea that someone was following her.  Then she became aware that Perigal was also idling along the towpath some way behind her.  The sight of him made her heart beat; she all but decided to turn back to meet him.  Common sense again fought for the possession of her mind.  It told her that by dawdling till she reached the next bend, she could be out of sight of Perigal, without exciting his suspicions, when it would be the easiest thing in the world to hurry till she came to a track which led from the canal to the town.  She was putting this design into practice, and had already reached the bend, when odd verses of the “Song of Solomon” occurred to her: 

“Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves’ eyes.

“As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters.

“Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee.