Page 521 - sons-and-lovers

‘She’d as leave think of flying.’
‘Ah, I always spoilt my lot! That’s why they’ve turned out
such bad uns,’ said the elderly woman.
‘You’d only Clara,’ he said. ‘And Mr. Radford’s in heaven.
So I suppose there’s only you left to be the bad un.’
‘I’m not bad; I’m only soft,’ she said, as she went out of
the bedroom. ‘I’m only a fool, I am!’
Clara was very quiet at breakfast, but she had a sort of
air of proprietorship over him that pleased him infinitely.
Mrs. Radford was evidently fond of him. He began to talk
of his painting.
‘What’s the good,’ exclaimed the mother, ‘of your whit-
tling and worrying and twistin’ and too-in’ at that painting
of yours? What GOOD does it do you, I should like to know?
You’d better be enjoyin’ yourself.’
‘Oh, but,’ exclaimed Paul, ‘I made over thirty guineas
last year.’
‘Did you! Well, that’s a consideration, but it’s nothing to
the time you put in.’
‘And I’ve got four pounds owing. A man said he’d give
me five pounds if I’d paint him and his missis and the dog
and the cottage. And I went and put the fowls in instead of
the dog, and he was waxy, so I had to knock a quid off. I was
sick of it, and I didn’t like the dog. I made a picture of it.
What shall I do when he pays me the four pounds?’
‘Nay! you know your own uses for your money,’ said
Mrs. Radford.
‘But I’m going to bust this four pounds. Should we go to
the seaside for a day or two?’

0 Sons and Lovers