Sons and Lovers - Daimon Club

enlargements of photographs of departed people done in carbon.
Mrs. Radford left him. She was stately, almost martial.
In a moment Clara appeared. She flushed deeply, and he was covered
with confusion. It seemed as if she did not like being discovered
in her home circumstances.
"I thought it couldn't be your voice," she said.
But she might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb.
She invited him out of the mausoleum of a parlour into the kitchen.
That was a little, darkish room too, but it was smothered
in white lace. The mother had seated herself again by the cupboard,
and was drawing thread from a vast web of lace. A clump of fluff and
ravelled cotton was at her right hand, a heap of three-quarter-inch lace