Page 317 - sons-and-lovers

‘Quick!’ cried Beatrice, giving Paul the scraped loaf.
‘Wrap it up in a damp towel.’
Paul disappeared into the scullery. Beatrice hastily blew
her scrapings into the fire, and sat down innocently. An-
nie came bursting in. She was an abrupt, quite smart young
woman. She blinked in the strong light.
‘Smell of burning!’ she exclaimed.
‘It’s the cigarettes,’ replied Beatrice demurely.
‘Where’s Paul?’
Leonard had followed Annie. He had a long comic face
and blue eyes, very sad.
‘I suppose he’s left you to settle it between you,’ he said.
He nodded sympathetically to Miriam, and became gently
sarcastic to Beatrice.
‘No,’ said Beatrice, ‘he’s gone off with number nine.’
‘I just met number five inquiring for him,’ said Leonard.
‘Yes—we’re going to share him up like Solomon’s baby,’
said Beatrice.
Annie laughed.
‘Oh, ay,’ said Leonard. ‘And which bit should you have?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Beatrice. ‘I’ll let all the others pick
first.’
‘An’ you’d have the leavings, like?’ said Leonard, twisting
up a comic face.
Annie was looking in the oven. Miriam sat ignored. Paul
entered.
‘This bread’s a fine sight, our Paul,’ said Annie.
‘Then you should stop an’ look after it,’ said Paul.
‘You mean YOU should do what you’re reckoning to do,’

1 Sons and Lovers