Page 400 - sons-and-lovers

worked with a balanced movement, as if nothing would
hurry them. He, not knowing, watched her all the time. He
saw the arch of her neck from the shoulder, as she bent her
head; he saw the coil of dun hair; he watched her moving,
gleaming arms.
‘I’ve heard a bit about you from Clara,’ continued the
mother. ‘You’re in Jordan’s, aren’t you?’ She drew her lace
unceasing.
‘Yes.’
‘Ay, well, and I can remember when Thomas Jordan used
to ask ME for one of my toffies.’
‘Did he?’ laughed Paul. ‘And did he get it?’
‘Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn’t—which was lat-
terly. For he’s the sort that takes all and gives naught, he
is—or used to be.’
‘I think he’s very decent,’ said Paul.
‘Yes; well, I’m glad to hear it.’
Mrs. Radford looked across at him steadily. There was
something determined about her that he liked. Her face
was falling loose, but her eyes were calm, and there was
something strong in her that made it seem she was not old;
merely her wrinkles and loose cheeks were an anachro-
nism. She had the strength and sang-froid of a woman in
the prime of life. She continued drawing the lace with slow,
dignified movements. The big web came up inevitably over
her apron; the length of lace fell away at her side. Her arms
were finely shapen, but glossy and yellow as old ivory. They
had not the peculiar dull gleam that made Clara’s so fasci-
nating to him.