Page 344 - sons-and-lovers

nest.
‘Shall I show you the eggs?’ he said.
‘Do!’ replied Mrs. Leivers. ‘They seem SUCH a sign of
spring, and so hopeful.’
He put aside the thorns, and took out the eggs, holding
them in the palm of his hand.
‘They are quite hot—I think we frightened her off them,’
he said.
‘Ay, poor thing!’ said Mrs. Leivers.
Miriam could not help touching the eggs, and his hand
which, it seemed to her, cradled them so well.
‘Isn’t it a strange warmth!’ she murmured, to get near
him.
‘Blood heat,’ he answered.
She watched him putting them back, his body pressed
against the hedge, his arm reaching slowly through the
thorns, his hand folded carefully over the eggs. He was
concentrated on the act. Seeing him so, she loved him; he
seemed so simple and sufficient to himself. And she could
not get to him.
After tea she stood hesitating at the bookshelf. He took
‘Tartarin de Tarascon”. Again they sat on the bank of hay
at the foot of the stack. He read a couple of pages, but with-
out any heart for it. Again the dog came racing up to repeat
the fun of the other day. He shoved his muzzle in the man’s
chest. Paul fingered his ear for a moment. Then he pushed
him away.
‘Go away, Bill,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you.’
Bill slunk off, and Miriam wondered and dreaded what