Page 514 - sons-and-lovers

‘Well, it’s everyone to his taste,’ he laughed.
Then followed a little discussion of the merits of pyja-
mas.
‘My mother loves me in them,’ he said. ‘She says I’m a
pierrot.’
‘I can imagine they’d suit you,’ said Mrs. Radford.
After a while he glanced at the little clock that was tick-
ing on the mantelpiece. It was half-past twelve.
‘It is funny,’ he said, ‘but it takes hours to settle down to
sleep after the theatre.’
‘It’s about time you did,’ said Mrs. Radford, clearing the
table.
‘Are YOU tired?’ he asked of Clara.
‘Not the least bit,’ she answered, avoiding his eyes.
‘Shall we have a game at cribbage?’ he said.
‘I’ve forgotten it.’
‘Well, I’ll teach you again. May we play crib, Mrs. Rad-
ford?’ he asked.
‘You’ll please yourselves,’ she said; ‘but it’s pretty late.’
‘A game or so will make us sleepy,’ he answered.
Clara brought the cards, and sat spinning her wedding-
ring whilst he shuffled them. Mrs. Radford was washing up
in the scullery. As it grew later Paul felt the situation getting
more and more tense.
‘Fifteen two, fifteen four, fifteen six, and two’s eight—-!’
The clock struck one. Still the game continued. Mrs.
Radford had done all the little jobs preparatory to going to
bed, had locked the door and filled the kettle. Still Paul went
on dealing and counting. He was obsessed by Clara’s arms

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