Sons and Lovers - Daimon Club

As she expected, she found the house empty. But Morel was
home by ten o'clock, and that day, at least, ended peacefully.
Walter Morel was, at this time, exceedingly irritable.
His work seemed to exhaust him. When he came home he did not speak
civilly to anybody. If the fire were rather low he bullied about that;
he grumbled about his dinner; if the children made a chatter he
shouted at them in a way that made their mother's blood boil,
and made them hate him.
On the Friday, he was not home by eleven o'clock. The baby
was unwell, and was restless, crying if he were put down. Mrs. Morel,
tired to death, and still weak, was scarcely under control.
"I wish the nuisance would come," she said wearily to herself.
The child at last sank down to sleep in her arms. She was
too tired to carry him to the cradle.
"But I'll say nothing, whatever time he comes," she said.
"It only works me up; I won't say anything. But I know if he does