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Sons and Lovers - Daimon Club

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The boy glanced away. But the smith used to st<strong>and</strong> behind<br />

the counter <strong>and</strong> talk to Mr. Pappleworth. His speech was dirty,<br />

with a kind of rottenness. Again he found the youth with his cool,<br />

critical gaze fixed on his face. The smith started round as if he<br />

had been stung.<br />

"What'r yer lookin' at, three hap'orth o' pap?" he snarled.<br />

The boy shrugged his shoulders slightly.<br />

"Why yer---!" shouted Dawes.<br />

"Leave him alone," said Mr. Pappleworth, in that insinuating<br />

voice which means, "He's only one of your good little sops who can't<br />

help it."<br />

Since that time the boy used to look at the man every time<br />

he came through with the same curious criticism, glancing away<br />

before he met the smith's eye. It made Dawes furious. They hated<br />

each other in silence.<br />

Clara Dawes had no children. When she had left her husb<strong>and</strong> the<br />

home had been broken up, <strong>and</strong> she had gone to live with her mother.<br />

Dawes lodged with his sister. In the same house was a sister-in-law, <strong>and</strong><br />

somehow Paul knew that this girl, Louie Travers, was now Dawes's woman.<br />

She was a h<strong>and</strong>some, insolent hussy, who mocked at the youth, <strong>and</strong> yet<br />

flushed if he walked along to the station with her as she went home.<br />

The next time he went to see Miriam it was Saturday evening.<br />

She had a fire in the parlour, <strong>and</strong> was waiting for him. The others,<br />

except her father <strong>and</strong> mother <strong>and</strong> the young children, had gone out,<br />

so the two had the parlour together. It was a long, low, warm room.<br />

There were three of Paul's small sketches on the wall, <strong>and</strong> his photo was<br />

on the mantelpiece. On the table <strong>and</strong> on the high old<br />

rosewood piano were bowls of coloured leaves. He sat in the armchair,<br />

she crouched on the hearthrug near his feet. The glow was warm<br />

on her h<strong>and</strong>some, pensive face as she kneeled there like a devotee.<br />

"What did you think of Mrs. Dawes?" she asked quietly.<br />

"She doesn't look very amiable," he replied.<br />

"No, but don't you think she's a fine woman?" she said,<br />

in a deep tone,<br />

"Yes--in stature. But without a grain of taste. I like her<br />

for some things. IS she disagreeable?"

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