Sons and Lovers - Daimon Club

anything it'll make my blood boil," she added to herself.
She sighed, hearing him coming, as if it were something she
could not bear. He, taking his revenge, was nearly drunk. She kept
her head bent over the child as he entered, not wishing to see him.
But it went through her like a flash of hot fire when, in passing,
he lurched against the dresser, setting the tins rattling, and clutched
at the white pot knobs for support. He hung up his hat and coat,
then returned, stood glowering from a distance at her, as she sat
bowed over the child.
"Is there nothing to eat in the house?" he asked, insolently,
as if to a servant. In certain stages of his intoxication he
affected the clipped, mincing speech of the towns. Mrs. Morel
hated him most in this condition.
"You know what there is in the house," she said, so coldly,
it sounded impersonal.
He stood and glared at her without moving a muscle.
"I asked a civil question, and I expect a civil answer,"
he said affectedly.
"And you got it," she said, still ignoring him.
He glowered again. Then he came unsteadily forward.
He leaned on the table with one hand, and with the other jerked
at the table drawer to get a knife to cut bread. The drawer stuck because
he
pulled sideways. In a temper he dragged it, so that it flew
out bodily, and spoons, forks, knives, a hundred metallic things,
splashed with a clatter and a clang upon the brick floor.
The baby gave a little convulsed start.
"What are you doing, clumsy, drunken fool?" the mother cried.
"Then tha should get the flamin' thing thysen. Tha should get up,
like other women have to, an' wait on a man."
"Wait on you--wait on you?" she cried. "Yes, I see myself."
"Yis, an' I'll learn thee tha's got to. Wait on ME, yes tha
sh'lt wait on me---"
"Never, milord. I'd wait on a dog at the door first."