The Malcontents by C.P. Snow

In the lane, when Tess and the young men had at last got free, the bells were clanging: not a single bell, but the whole peal, shuddering out with mathematical solemnity. The night had turned colder, the sky was now brilliant with stars behind the spire, but none of them spared a backward glance. They were half-running to reach the pub in time. During the evening, Stephen had managed to give Tess the first sketch of the news: now he was telling her more. Tess' mother was right in thinking that there was a tie between these two: but she didn't know what the relation was, and she certainly didn't know that Tess, in addition to loving Stephen, was committed in another sense, and was one of the seven whom they called the core.

Their steps echoed in the empty street, past the school, the bank. Then the black windows of shops, one or two passers-by. The mouth of the market place, the lights of the Saracen's Head. There was Neil St John, waiting for them in the corner, coming towards them on his heavy cyclist's thighs.