Page 552 - sons-and-lovers

ening!’
‘And would YOU let a WOMAN do as she likes?’
‘Yes; I’ll see that she likes to love me. If she doesn’t—well,
I don’t hold her.’
‘If you were as wonderful as you say—-,’ replied Clara.
‘I should be the marvel I am,’ he laughed.
There was a silence in which they hated each other,
though they laughed.
‘Love’s a dog in a manger,’ he said.
‘And which of us is the dog?’ she asked.
‘Oh well, you, of course.’
So there went on a battle between them. She knew she
never fully had him. Some part, big and vital in him, she
had no hold over; nor did she ever try to get it, or even to
realise what it was. And he knew in some way that she held
herself still as Mrs. Dawes. She did not love Dawes, never
had loved him; but she believed he loved her, at least de-
pended on her. She felt a certain surety about him that she
never felt with Paul Morel. Her passion for the young man
had filled her soul, given her a certain satisfaction, eased
her of her self-mistrust, her doubt. Whatever else she was,
she was inwardly assured. It was almost as if she had gained
HERSELF, and stood now distinct and complete. She had
received her confirmation; but she never believed that her
life belonged to Paul Morel, nor his to her. They would sepa-
rate in the end, and the rest of her life would be an ache after
him. But at any rate, she knew now, she was sure of herself.
And the same could almost be said of him. Together they
had received the baptism of life, each through the other;

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