Page 391 - sons-and-lovers

There was silence. Morel stared at the sugar-basin in-
stead of eating his dinner. His black arm, with the hand all
gnarled with work lay on the table. His wife pretended not
to see him rub the back of his hand across his eyes, nor the
smear in the coal-dust on his black face.
‘Yes, an’ that other lad ‘ud ‘a done as much if they hadna
ha’ killed ‘im,’ he said quietly.
The thought of William went through Mrs. Morel like a
cold blade. It left her feeling she was tired, and wanted rest.
Paul was invited to dinner at Mr. Jordan’s. Afterwards
he said:
‘Mother, I want an evening suit.’
‘Yes, I was afraid you would,’ she said. She was glad.
There was a moment or two of silence. ‘There’s that one of
William’s,’ she continued, ‘that I know cost four pounds ten
and which he’d only worn three times.’
‘Should you like me to wear it, mother?’ he asked.
‘Yes. I think it would fit you—at least the coat. The trou-
sers would want shortening.’
He went upstairs and put on the coat and vest. Coming
down, he looked strange in a flannel collar and a flannel
shirt-front, with an evening coat and vest. It was rather
large.
‘The tailor can make it right,’ she said, smoothing her
hand over his shoulder. ‘It’s beautiful stuff. I never could
find in my heart to let your father wear the trousers, and
very glad I am now.’
And as she smoothed her hand over the silk collar she
thought of her eldest son. But this son was living enough in-

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