Page 268 - sons-and-lovers

They went into the garden. The sky behind the town-
let and the church was orange-red; the flower-garden was
flooded with a strange warm light that lifted every leaf into
significance. Paul passed along a fine row of sweet-peas,
gathering a blossom here and there, all cream and pale blue.
Miriam followed, breathing the fragrance. To her, flowers
appealed with such strength she felt she must make them
part of herself. When she bent and breathed a flower, it was
as if she and the flower were loving each other. Paul hated
her for it. There seemed a sort of exposure about the action,
something too intimate.
When he had got a fair bunch, they returned to the house.
He listened for a moment to his mother’s quiet movement
upstairs, then he said:
‘Come here, and let me pin them in for you.’ He arranged
them two or three at a time in the bosom of her dress, step-
ping back now and then to see the effect. ‘You know,’ he
said, taking the pin out of his mouth, ‘a woman ought al-
ways to arrange her flowers before her glass.’
Miriam laughed. She thought flowers ought to be pinned
in one’s dress without any care. That Paul should take pains
to fix her flowers for her was his whim.
He was rather offended at her laughter.
‘Some women do—those who look decent,’ he said.
Miriam laughed again, but mirthlessly, to hear him thus
mix her up with women in a general way. From most men
she would have ignored it. But from him it hurt her.
He had nearly finished arranging the flowers when he
heard his mother’s footstep on the stairs. Hurriedly he