Page 339 - sons-and-lovers

And in a minute the dog trotted off happily, to vary the
fun.
He remained staring miserably across at the hills, whose
still beauty he begrudged. He wanted to go and cycle with
Edgar. Yet he had not the courage to leave Miriam.
‘Why are you sad?’ she asked humbly.
‘I’m not sad; why should I be,’ he answered. ‘I’m only
normal.’
She wondered why he always claimed to be normal when
he was disagreeable.
‘But what is the matter?’ she pleaded, coaxing him sooth-
ingly.
‘Nothing!’
‘Nay!’ she murmured.
He picked up a stick and began to stab the earth with it.
‘You’d far better not talk,’ he said.
‘But I wish to know—-’ she replied.
He laughed resentfully.
‘You always do,’ he said.
‘It’s not fair to me,’ she murmured.
He thrust, thrust, thrust at the ground with the pointed
stick, digging up little clods of earth as if he were in a fe-
ver of irritation. She gently and firmly laid her band on his
wrist.
‘Don’t!’ she said. ‘Put it away.’
He flung the stick into the currant-bushes, and leaned
back. Now he was bottled up.
‘What is it?’ she pleaded softly.
He lay perfectly still, only his eyes alive, and they full of

Sons and Lovers