Sons and Lovers - Daimon Club

ing you back."
"Very well," she replied, low and husky.
They scarcely spoke while they were on the car. The Trent
ran dark and full under the bridge. Away towards Colwick all was
black night. He lived down Holme Road, on the naked edge of the town,
facing across the river meadows towards Sneinton Hermitage and the
steep scrap of Colwick Wood. The floods were out. The silent
water and the darkness spread away on their left. Almost afraid,
they hurried along by the houses.
Supper was laid. He swung the curtain over the window.
There was a bowl of freesias and scarlet anemones on the table.
She bent to them. Still touching them with her finger-tips, she looked
up at him, saying:
"Aren't they beautiful?"
"Yes," he said. "What will you drink--coffee?"
"I should like it," she said.