Doomsday by Warwick Deeping

But as the yellow leaves fell, and November brought grey skies and mud and misty meadows, Mary had to explore the inwardness of Furze's obstinate silence. That he wanted her was obvious; she could not be a woman and be near him without knowing it, though he put on the appearance of being the most practical of friends. Considered emotionally this aloofness betrayed a conscious inhibition, a fear of wanting her, a dread of the depth of the waters of his necessity. On the land the life goes on, demanding permanence. The moods of the weather are the only moods that can be acknowledged, and to fickle weather a man may fear to add the moods of a fickle woman. She felt this fear of his, and in recognizing its reasonableness, was driven to climb higher than her workaday self. She had to face finality. This man was rooted in the soil, and to be his mate she would have to take root beside him.

She thought that she could do it. Her whole impulse now was towards the doing of it. Three months ago she would have used the word renunciation, but now she thought of the future as fulfilment. He had given her proofs of his new understanding. He had prepared and planted his little garden; it was there, as much there as he could make it, but he would not ask her to walk in it.