Sons and Lovers - Daimon Club

Hawthorn was dropping from the hedges; penny daisies and ragged
robin were in the field, like laughter. William, a big fellow
of twenty-three, thinner now and even a bit gaunt, lay back
in the sunshine and dreamed, while she fingered with his hair.
Paul went gathering the big daisies. She had taken off her hat;
her hair was black as a horse's mane. Paul came back and threaded
daisies in her jet-black hair--big spangles of white and yellow, and just
a pink touch of ragged robin.
"Now you look like a young witch-woman," the boy said to her.
"Doesn't she, William?"
Lily laughed. William opened his eyes and looked at her.
In his gaze was a certain baffled look of misery and fierce appreciation.
"Has he made a sight of me?" she asked, laughing down on
her lover.
"That he has!" said William, smiling.
He looked at her. Her beauty seemed to hurt him. He glanced
at her flower-decked head and frowned.
"You look nice enough, if that's what you want to know,"
he said.
And she walked without her hat. In a little while William
recovered, and was rather tender to her. Coming to a bridge,
he carved her initials and his in a heart.
L. L. W.
W. M.
She watched his strong, nervous hand, with its glistening
hairs and freckles, as he carved, and she seemed fascinated by it.
All the time there was a feeling of sadness and warmth,
and a certain tenderness in the house, whilst William and Lily
were at home. But often he got irritable. She had brought,
for an eight-days' stay, five dresses and six blouses.
"Oh, would you mind," she said to Annie, "washing me these
two blouses, and these things?"
And Annie stood washing when William and Lily went out the
next morning. Mrs. Morel was furious. And sometimes the young man,
catching a glimpse of his sweetheart's attitude towards his sister,
hated her.