Page 494 - sons-and-lovers

‘From Nottingham! Then you have had a beautiful day
for your journey.’
Then he strayed into the scullery to wash his hands and
face, and from force of habit came on to the hearth with the
towel to dry himself.
At tea Clara felt the refinement and sang-froid of the
household. Mrs. Morel was perfectly at her ease. The
pouring out the tea and attending to the people went on un-
consciously, without interrupting her in her talk. There was
a lot of room at the oval table; the china of dark blue wil-
low-pattern looked pretty on the glossy cloth. There was a
little bowl of small, yellow chrysanthemums. Clara felt she
completed the circle, and it was a pleasure to her. But she
was rather afraid of the self-possession of the Morels, father
and all. She took their tone; there was a feeling of balance. It
was a cool, clear atmosphere, where everyone was himself,
and in harmony. Clara enjoyed it, but there was a fear deep
at the bottom of her.
Paul cleared the table whilst his mother and Clara talked.
Clara was conscious of his quick, vigorous body as it came
and went, seeming blown quickly by a wind at its work. It
was almost like the hither and thither of a leaf that comes
unexpected. Most of herself went with him. By the way she
leaned forward, as if listening, Mrs. Morel could see she was
possessed elsewhere as she talked, and again the elder wom-
an was sorry for her.
Having finished, he strolled down the garden, leaving
the two women to talk. It was a hazy, sunny afternoon, mild
and soft. Clara glanced through the window after him as he