Page 606 - sons-and-lovers

space—a long space. Then they started. The great, snoring
breath was taken again. He bent close down and looked at
her.
‘Isn’t it awful!’ whispered Annie.
He nodded. They sat down again helplessly. Again came
the great, snoring breath. Again they hung suspended. Again
it was given back, long and harsh. The sound, so irregular, at
such wide intervals, sounded through the house. Morel, in
his room, slept on. Paul and Annie sat crouched, huddled,
motionless. The great snoring sound began again—there
was a painful pause while the breath was held—back came
the rasping breath. Minute after minute passed. Paul looked
at her again, bending low over her.
‘She may last like this,’ he said.
They were both silent. He looked out of the window, and
could faintly discern the snow on the garden.
‘You go to my bed,’ he said to Annie. ‘I’ll sit up.’
‘No,’ she said, ‘I’ll stop with you.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ he said.
At last Annie crept out of the room, and he was alone.
He hugged himself in his brown blanket, crouched in front
of his mother, watching. She looked dreadful, with the bot-
tom jaw fallen back. He watched. Sometimes he thought the
great breath would never begin again. He could not bear
it—the waiting. Then suddenly, startling him, came the
great harsh sound. He mended the fire again, noiselessly.
She must not be disturbed. The minutes went by. The night
was going, breath by breath. Each time the sound came he
felt it wring him, till at last he could not feel so much.

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