Page 328 - sons-and-lovers

Without knowing, he gently stroked her face.
‘There,’ said his mother, ‘now go to bed. You’ll be so tired
in the morning.’ As she was speaking she heard her hus-
band coming. ‘There’s your father—now go.’ Suddenly she
looked at him almost as if in fear. ‘Perhaps I’m selfish. If you
want her, take her, my boy.’
His mother looked so strange, Paul kissed her, trem-
bling.
‘Ha—mother!’ he said softly.
Morel came in, walking unevenly. His hat was over one
corner of his eye. He balanced in the doorway.
‘At your mischief again?’ he said venomously.
Mrs. Morel’s emotion turned into sudden hate of the
drunkard who had come in thus upon her.
‘At any rate, it is sober,’ she said.
‘H’m—h’m! h’m—h’m!’ he sneered. He went into the
passage, hung up his hat and coat. Then they heard him go
down three steps to the pantry. He returned with a piece of
pork-pie in his fist. It was what Mrs. Morel had bought for
her son.
‘Nor was that bought for you. If you can give me no more
than twenty-five shillings, I’m sure I’m not going to buy you
pork-pie to stuff, after you’ve swilled a bellyful of beer.’
‘Wha-at—wha-at!’ snarled Morel, toppling in his bal-
ance. ‘Wha-at—not for me?’ He looked at the piece of meat
and crust, and suddenly, in a vicious spurt of temper, flung
it into the fire.
Paul started to his feet.
‘Waste your own stuff!’ he cried.