Page 191 - sons-and-lovers

‘Well,’ she said, ‘it’s cost me just three shillings. You
couldn’t have got it ready-made for that price, could you?’
‘I should think you couldn’t,’ he replied.
‘And, you know, it’s good stuff.’
‘Awfully pretty,’ he said.
The blouse was white, with a little sprig of heliotrope and
black.
‘Too young for me, though, I’m afraid,’ she said.
‘Too young for you!’ he exclaimed in disgust. ‘Why don’t
you buy some false white hair and stick it on your head.’
‘I s’ll soon have no need,’ she replied. ‘I’m going white
fast enough.’
‘Well, you’ve no business to,’ he said. ‘What do I want
with a white-haired mother?’
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with one, my lad,’ she
said rather strangely.
They set off in great style, she carrying the umbrella
William had given her, because of the sun. Paul was con-
siderably taller than she, though he was not big. He fancied
himself.
On the fallow land the young wheat shone silkily. Min-
ton pit waved its plumes of white steam, coughed, and
rattled hoarsely.
‘Now look at that!’ said Mrs. Morel. Mother and son
stood on the road to watch. Along the ridge of the great pit-
hill crawled a little group in silhouette against the sky, a
horse, a small truck, and a man. They climbed the incline
against the heavens. At the end the man tipped the wagon.
There was an undue rattle as the waste fell down the sheer

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