Page 378 - sons-and-lovers

loved her. He was a creature of the moment. Never yet had
he been forced to realise himself. The army had disciplined
his body, but not his soul. He was in perfect health and very
handsome. His dark, vigorous hair sat close to his smallish
head. There was something childish about his nose, some-
thing almost girlish about his dark blue eyes. But he had the
fun red mouth of a man under his brown moustache, and
his jaw was strong. It was his father’s mouth; it was the nose
and eyes of her own mother’s people—good-looking, weak-
principled folk. Mrs. Morel was anxious about him. Once
he had really run the rig he was safe. But how far would he
go?
The army had not really done him any good. He resent-
ed bitterly the authority of the officers. He hated having to
obey as if he were an animal. But he had too much sense to
kick. So he turned his attention to getting the best out of
it. He could sing, he was a boon-companion. Often he got
into scrapes, but they were the manly scrapes that are eas-
ily condoned. So he made a good time out of it, whilst his
self-respect was in suppression. He trusted to his good looks
and handsome figure, his refinement, his decent education
to get him most of what he wanted, and he was not disap-
pointed. Yet he was restless. Something seemed to gnaw
him inside. He was never still, he was never alone. With his
mother he was rather humble. Paul he admired and loved
and despised slightly. And Paul admired and loved and de-
spised him slightly.
Mrs. Morel had had a few pounds left to her by her father,
and she decided to buy her son out of the army. He was wild