Page 482 - sons-and-lovers

‘Well, my dear, she lives separate from her husband, and
talks on platforms; so she’s already singled out from the
sheep, and, as far as I can see, hasn’t much to lose. No; her
life’s nothing to her, so what’s the worth of nothing? She
goes with me—it becomes something. Then she must pay—
we both must pay! Folk are so frightened of paying; they’d
rather starve and die.’
‘Very well, my son. We’ll see how it will end.’
‘Very well, my mother. I’ll abide by the end.’
‘We’ll see!’
‘And she’s—she’s AWFULLY nice, mother; she is really!
You don’t know!’
‘That’s not the same as marrying her.’
‘It’s perhaps better.’
There was silence for a while. He wanted to ask his moth-
er something, but was afraid.
‘Should you like to know her?’ He hesitated.
‘Yes,’ said Mrs. Morel coolly. ‘I should like to know what
she’s like.’
‘But she’s nice, mother, she is! And not a bit common!’
‘I never suggested she was.’
‘But you seem to think she’s—not as good as—- She’s bet-
ter than ninety-nine folk out of a hundred, I tell you! She’s
BETTER, she is! She’s fair, she’s honest, she’s straight! There
isn’t anything underhand or superior about her. Don’t be
mean about her!’
Mrs. Morel flushed.
‘I am sure I am not mean about her. She may be quite as
you say, but—-‘

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