Page 534 - sons-and-lovers

his shoulders.
‘Couldn’t yer, couldn’t yer!’ cried Dawes, thrusting for-
ward his handsome, furious face, and squaring his fist.
‘Have you finished?’ cried the old man, strutting. ‘Get
off about your business, and don’t come here tipsy in the
morning.’
Dawes turned his big frame slowly upon him.
‘Tipsy!’ he said. ‘Who’s tipsy? I’m no more tipsy than
YOU are!’
‘We’ve heard that song before,’ snapped the old man.
‘Now you get off, and don’t be long about it. Comin’ HERE
with your rowdying.’
The smith looked down contemptuously on his employ-
er. His hands, large, and grimy, and yet well shaped for his
labour, worked restlessly. Paul remembered they were the
hands of Clara’s husband, and a flash of hate went through
him.
‘Get out before you’re turned out!’ snapped Thomas Jor-
dan.
‘Why, who’ll turn me out?’ said Dawes, beginning to
sneer.
Mr. Jordan started, marched up to the smith, waving
him off, thrusting his stout little figure at the man, saying:
‘Get off my premises—get off!’
He seized and twitched Dawes’s arm.
‘Come off!’ said the smith, and with a jerk of the elbow
he sent the little manufacturer staggering backwards.
Before anyone could help him, Thomas Jordan had col-
lided with the flimsy spring-door. It had given way, and let