Page 335 - sons-and-lovers

loved, could look so hurting.
‘Has the wind made you tired?’ she asked. She detected
an underneath feeling of weariness about him.
‘No, I think not,’ he answered.
‘It must be rough on the road—the wood moans so.’
‘You can see by the clouds it’s a south-west wind; that
helps me here.’
‘You see, I don’t cycle, so I don’t understand,’ she mur-
mured.
‘Is there need to cycle to know that!’ he said.
She thought his sarcasms were unnecessary. They went
forward in silence. Round the wild, tussocky lawn at the
back of the house was a thorn hedge, under which daffodils
were craning forward from among their sheaves of grey-
green blades. The cheeks of the flowers were greenish with
cold. But still some had burst, and their gold ruffled and
glowed. Miriam went on her knees before one cluster, took
a wild-looking daffodil between her hands, turned up its
face of gold to her, and bowed down, caressing it with her
mouth and cheeks and brow. He stood aside, with his hands
in his pockets, watching her. One after another she turned
up to him the faces of the yellow, bursten flowers appeal-
ingly, fondling them lavishly all the while.
‘Aren’t they magnificent?’ she murmured.
‘Magnificent! It’s a bit thick—they’re pretty!’
She bowed again to her flowers at his censure of her
praise. He watched her crouching, sipping the flowers with
fervid kisses.
‘Why must you always be fondling things?’ he said ir-

Sons and Lovers