Page 184 - sons-and-lovers

hands all round, to everybody’s discomfort, and took her
departure, preceded by William. In five minutes he was
downstairs again. His heart was rather sore; he did not
know why. He talked very little till everybody had gone to
bed, but himself and his mother. Then he stood with his legs
apart, in his old attitude on the hearthrug, and said hesitat-
ingly:
‘Well, mother?’
‘Well, my son?’
She sat in the rocking-chair, feeling somehow hurt and
humiliated, for his sake.
‘Do you like her?’
‘Yes,’ came the slow answer.
‘She’s shy yet, mother. She’s not used to it. It’s different
from her aunt’s house, you know.’
‘Of course it is, my boy; and she must find it difficult.’
‘She does.’ Then he frowned swiftly. ‘If only she wouldn’t
put on her BLESSED airs!’
‘It’s only her first awkwardness, my boy. She’ll be all
right.’
‘That’s it, mother,’ he replied gratefully. But his brow was
gloomy. ‘You know, she’s not like you, mother. She’s not se-
rious, and she can’t think.’
‘She’s young, my boy.’
‘Yes; and she’s had no sort of show. Her mother died
when she was a child. Since then she’s lived with her aunt,
whom she can’t bear. And her father was a rake. She’s had
no love.’
‘No! Well, you must make up to her.’

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