Page 493 - sons-and-lovers

And the conversation had started. They talked Notting-
ham and Nottingham people; it interested them both. Clara
was still rather nervous; Mrs. Morel was still somewhat on
her dignity. She clipped her language very clear and precise.
But they were going to get on well together, Paul saw.
Mrs. Morel measured herself against the younger wom-
an, and found herself easily stronger. Clara was deferential.
She knew Paul’s surprising regard for his mother, and she
had dreaded the meeting, expecting someone rather hard
and cold. She was surprised to find this little interested
woman chatting with such readiness; and then she felt, as
she felt with Paul, that she would not care to stand in Mrs.
Morel’s way. There was something so hard and certain in
his mother, as if she never had a misgiving in her life.
Presently Morel came down, ruffled and yawning, from
his afternoon sleep. He scratched his grizzled head, he plod-
ded in his stocking feet, his waistcoat hung open over his
shirt. He seemed incongruous.
‘This is Mrs. Dawes, father,’ said Paul.
Then Morel pulled himself together. Clara saw Paul’s
manner of bowing and shaking hands.
‘Oh, indeed!’ exclaimed Morel. ‘I am very glad to see
you—I am, I assure you. But don’t disturb yourself. No, no
make yourself quite comfortable, and be very welcome.’
Clara was astonished at this flood of hospitality from
the old collier. He was so courteous, so gallant! She thought
him most delightful.
‘And may you have come far?’ he asked.
‘Only from Nottingham,’ she said.

Sons and Lovers