Page 347 - sons-and-lovers

‘Well—and there are Sunday nights. I shan’t stop coming
to chapel, because I enjoy it, and it’s all the social life I get.
But you’ve no need to come home with me. I can go alone.’
‘All right,’ he answered, rather taken aback. ‘But if I ask
Edgar, he’ll always come with us, and then they can say
nothing.’
There was silence. After all, then, she would not lose
much. For all their talk down at his home there would not
be much difference. She wished they would mind their own
business.
‘And you won’t think about it, and let it trouble you, will
you?’ he asked.
‘Oh no,’ replied Miriam, without looking at him.
He was silent. She thought him unstable. He had no fix-
ity of purpose, no anchor of righteousness that held him.
‘Because,’ he continued, ‘a man gets across his bicycle—
and goes to work—and does all sorts of things. But a woman
broods.’
‘No, I shan’t bother,’ said Miriam. And she meant it.
It had gone rather chilly. They went indoors.
‘How white Paul looks!’ Mrs. Leivers exclaimed. ‘Mir-
iam, you shouldn’t have let him sit out of doors. Do you
think you’ve taken cold, Paul?’
‘Oh, no!’ he laughed.
But he felt done up. It wore him out, the conflict in him-
self. Miriam pitied him now. But quite early, before nine
o’clock, he rose to go.
‘You’re not going home, are you?’ asked Mrs. Leivers
anxiously.

Sons and Lovers