Sons and Lovers - Daimon Club

"Oh no, we had dinner in the train. Have you got my gloves, Chubby?"
William Morel, big and raw-boned, looked at her quickly.
"How should I?" he said.
"Then I've lost them. Don't be cross with me."
A frown went over his face, but he said nothing. She glanced
round the kitchen. It was small and curious to her, with its
glittering kissing-bunch, its evergreens behind the pictures,
its wooden chairs and little deal table. At that moment Morel
came in.
"Hello, dad!"
"Hello, my son! Tha's let on me!"
The two shook hands, and William presented the lady.
She gave the same smile that showed her teeth.
"How do you do, Mr. Morel?"
Morel bowed obsequiously.
"I'm very well, and I hope so are you. You must make yourself
very welcome."
"Oh, thank you," she replied, rather amused.
"You will like to go upstairs," said Mrs. Morel.
"If you don't mind; but not if it is any trouble to you."
"It is no trouble. Annie will take you. Walter, carry up
this box."
"And don't be an hour dressing yourself up," said William
to his betrothed.
Annie took a brass candlestick, and, too shy almost to speak,
preceded the young lady to the front bedroom, which Mr. and Mrs. Morel
had vacated for her. It, too, was small and cold by candlelight.
The colliers' wives only lit fires in bedrooms in case of extreme
illness.
"Shall I unstrap the box?" asked Annie.
"Oh, thank you very much!"
Annie played the part of maid, then went downstairs for hot water.
"I think she's rather tired, mother," said William.
"It's a beastly journey, and we had such a rush."
"Is there anything I can give her?" asked Mrs. Morel.
"Oh no, she'll be all right."
But there was a chill in the atmosphere. After half an hour
Miss Western came down, having put on a purplish-coloured dress,
very fine for the collier's kitchen.