Sons and Lovers - Daimon Club

"Too young for me, though, I'm afraid," she said.
"Too young for you!" he exclaimed in disgust. "Why don't you
buy some false white hair and stick it on your head."
"I s'll soon have no need," she replied. "I'm going white
fast enough."
"Well, you've no business to," he said. "What do I want
with a white-haired mother?"
"I'm afraid you'll have to put up with one, my lad," she said
rather strangely.
They set off in great style, she carrying the umbrella William
had given her, because of the sun. Paul was considerably taller
than she, though he was not big. He fancied himself.
On the fallow land the young wheat shone silkily. Minton pit
waved its plumes of white steam, coughed, and rattled hoarsely.
"Now look at that!" said Mrs. Morel. Mother and son stood on
the road to watch. Along the ridge of the great pit-hill crawled
a little group in silhouette against the sky, a horse, a small truck,
and a man. They climbed the incline against the heavens.
At the end the man tipped the wagon. There was an undue rattle
as the waste fell down the sheer slope of the enormous bank.
"You sit a minute, mother," he said, and she took a seat on
a bank, whilst he sketched rapidly. She was silent whilst he worked,
looking round at the afternoon, the red cottages shining among
their greenness.
"The world is a wonderful place," she said, "and wonderfully
beautiful."
"And so's the pit," he said. "Look how it heaps together,
like something alive almost--a big creature that you don't know."
"Yes," she said. "Perhaps!"
"And all the trucks standing waiting, like a string of beasts
to be fed," he said.
"And very thankful I am they ARE standing," she said,
"for that means they'll turn middling time this week."