Sons and Lovers - Daimon Club

"They say if you can swing you won't be sea-sick," he said,
as he mounted again. "I don't believe I should ever be sea-sick."
Away he went. There was something fascinating to her in him.
For the moment he was nothing but a piece of swinging stuff;
not a particle of him that did not swing. She could never lose
herself so, nor could her brothers. It roused a warmth in her.
It was almost as if he were a flame that had lit a warmth in her
whilst he swung in the middle air.
And gradually the intimacy with the family concentrated
for Paul on three persons--the mother, Edgar, and Miriam.
To the mother he went for that sympathy and that appeal which seemed
to draw him out. Edgar was his very close friend. And to Miriam
he more or less condescended, because she seemed so humble.
But the girl gradually sought him out. If he brought up his
sketch-book, it was she who pondered longest over the last picture.
Then she would look up at him. Suddenly, her dark eyes alight like
water that shakes with a stream of gold in the dark, she would ask:
"Why do I like this so?"
Always something in his breast shrank from these close,
intimate, dazzled looks of hers.