Page 324 - sons-and-lovers

hectoring.
‘You’d never notice anything,’ said Annie. ‘You’re too ea-
ger to be off with Miriam.’
‘Oh, am I—and any worse than you with Leonard?’
‘I was in at a quarter to ten.’
There was silence in the room for a time.
‘I should have thought,’ said Mrs. Morel bitterly, ‘that she
wouldn’t have occupied you so entirely as to burn a whole
ovenful of bread.’
‘Beatrice was here as well as she.’
‘Very likely. But we know why the bread is spoilt.’
‘Why?’ he flashed.
‘Because you were engrossed with Miriam,’ replied Mrs.
Morel hotly.
‘Oh, very well—then it was NOT!’ he replied angrily.
He was distressed and wretched. Seizing a paper, he be-
gan to read. Annie, her blouse unfastened, her long ropes of
hair twisted into a plait, went up to bed, bidding him a very
curt good-night.
Paul sat pretending to read. He knew his mother wanted
to upbraid him. He also wanted to know what had made her
ill, for he was troubled. So, instead of running away to bed,
as he would have liked to do, he sat and waited. There was a
tense silence. The clock ticked loudly.
‘You’d better go to bed before your father comes in,’ said
the mother harshly. ‘And if you’re going to have anything to
eat, you’d better get it.’
‘I don’t want anything.’
It was his mother’s custom to bring him some trifle for