Sons and Lovers - Daimon Club

The miner sat heavily in his chair.
"Has he, beguy!" he exclaimed.
He stared across the room fixedly.
"But as for fifty pounds--such nonsense!" She was silent awhile.
"Major Moreton bought it for twenty guineas, that's true."
"Twenty guineas! Tha niver says!" exclaimed Morel.
"Yes, and it was worth it."
"Ay!" he said. "I don't misdoubt it. But twenty guineas
for a bit of a paintin' as he knocked off in an hour or two!"
He was silent with conceit of his son. Mrs. Morel sniffed,
as if it were nothing.
"And when does he handle th' money?" asked the collier.
"That I couldn't tell you. When the picture is sent home,
I suppose."
There was silence. Morel stared at the sugar-basin instead
of eating his dinner. His black arm, with the hand all gnarled
with work lay on the table. His wife pretended not to see him rub
the back of his hand across his eyes, nor the smear in the coal-dust
on his black face.
"Yes, an' that other lad 'ud 'a done as much if they hadna
ha' killed 'im," he said quietly.
The thought of William went through Mrs. Morel like a cold blade.
It left her feeling she was tired, and wanted rest.
Paul was invited to dinner at Mr. Jordan's. Afterwards he said:
"Mother, I want an evening suit."
"Yes, I was afraid you would," she said. She was glad.
There was a moment or two of silence. "There's that one of William's,"
she continued, "that I know cost four pounds ten
and which he'd only worn three times."