Page 515 - sons-and-lovers

and throat. He believed he could see where the division was
just beginning for her breasts. He could not leave her. She
watched his hands, and felt her joints melt as they moved
quickly. She was so near; it was almost as if he touched her,
and yet not quite. His mettle was roused. He hated Mrs.
Radford. She sat on, nearly dropping asleep, but deter-
mined and obstinate in her chair. Paul glanced at her, then
at Clara. She met his eyes, that were angry, mocking, and
hard as steel. Her own answered him in shame. He knew
SHE, at any rate, was of his mind. He played on.
At last Mrs. Radford roused herself stiffly, and said:
‘Isn’t it nigh on time you two was thinking o’ bed?’
Paul played on without answering. He hated her suffi-
ciently to murder her.
‘Half a minute,’ he said.
The elder woman rose and sailed stubbornly into the
scullery, returning with his candle, which she put on the
mantelpiece. Then she sat down again. The hatred of her
went so hot down his veins, he dropped his cards.
‘We’ll stop, then,’ he said, but his voice was still a chal-
lenge.
Clara saw his mouth shut hard. Again he glanced at her.
It seemed like an agreement. She bent over the cards, cough-
ing, to clear her throat.
‘Well, I’m glad you’ve finished,’ said Mrs. Radford. ‘Here,
take your things’—she thrust the warm suit in his hand—
‘and this is your candle. Your room’s over this; there’s only
two, so you can’t go far wrong. Well, good-night. I hope
you’ll rest well.’

1 Sons and Lovers