Page 174 - sons-and-lovers

‘You needn’t try to make a fool of me,’ said Fanny, flush-
ing deeply.
‘No, but she has, Paul; she’s got beautiful hair.’
‘It’s a treat of a colour,’ said he. ‘That coldish colour like
earth, and yet shiny. It’s like bog-water.’
‘Goodness me!’ exclaimed one girl, laughing.
‘How I do but get criticised,’ said Fanny.
‘But you should see it down, Paul,’ cried Emma earnest-
ly. ‘It’s simply beautiful. Put it down for him, Fanny, if he
wants something to paint.’
Fanny would not, and yet she wanted to.
‘Then I’ll take it down myself,’ said the lad.
‘Well, you can if you like,’ said Fanny.
And he carefully took the pins out of the knot, and the
rush of hair, of uniform dark brown, slid over the humped
back.
‘What a lovely lot!’ he exclaimed.
The girls watched. There was silence. The youth shook
the hair loose from the coil.
‘It’s splendid!’ he said, smelling its perfume. ‘I’ll bet it’s
worth pounds.’
‘I’ll leave it you when I die, Paul,’ said Fanny, half jok-
ing.
‘You look just like anybody else, sitting drying their hair,’
said one of the girls to the long-legged hunchback.
Poor Fanny was morbidly sensitive, always imagining in-
sults. Polly was curt and businesslike. The two departments
were for ever at war, and Paul was always finding Fanny in
tears. Then he was made the recipient of all her woes, and he

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