Page 357 - sons-and-lovers

Edgar laughed. Together they unloaded the coal in the
yard. Paul was rather self-conscious, because he knew Clara
could see if she looked out of the window. She didn’t look.
On Saturday afternoons the horses were brushed down
and groomed. Paul and Edgar worked together, sneezing
with the dust that came from the pelts of Jimmy and Flow-
er.
‘Do you know a new song to teach me?’ said Edgar.
He continued to work all the time. The back of his neck
was sun-red when he bent down, and his fingers that held
the brush were thick. Paul watched him sometimes.
‘Mary Morrison’?’ suggested the younger.
Edgar agreed. He had a good tenor voice, and he loved
to learn all the songs his friend could teach him, so that he
could sing whilst he was carting. Paul had a very indiffer-
ent baritone voice, but a good ear. However, he sang softly,
for fear of Clara. Edgar repeated the line in a clear tenor. At
times they both broke off to sneeze, and first one, then the
other, abused his horse.
Miriam was impatient of men. It took so little to amuse
them—even Paul. She thought it anomalous in him that he
could be so thoroughly absorbed in a triviality.
It was tea-time when they had finished.
‘What song was that?’ asked Miriam.
Edgar told her. The conversation turned to singing.
‘We have such jolly times,’ Miriam said to Clara.
Mrs. Dawes ate her meal in a slow, dignified way. When-
ever the men were present she grew distant.
‘Do you like singing?’ Miriam asked her.

Sons and Lovers