Page:Sons and Lovers, 1913, Lawrence.djvu/349

Rh whilst he shuffled them. Mrs. Radford was washing up in the scullery. As it grew later Paul felt the situation getting more and more tense.

“Fifteen two, fifteen four, fifteen six, and two’s eight——!”

The clock struck one. Still the game continued. Mrs. Radford had done all the little jobs preparatory to going to bed, had locked the door and filled the kettle. Still Paul went on dealing and counting. He was obsessed by Clara’s arms and throat. He believed he could see where the division was just beginning for her breasts. He could not leave her. She watched his hands, and felt her joints melt as they moved quickly. She was so near; it was almost as if he touched her, and yet not quite. His mettle was roused. He hated Mrs. Radford. She sat on, nearly dropping asleep, but determined and obstinate in her chair. Paul glanced at her, then at Clara. She met his eyes, that were angry, mocking, and hard as steel. Her own answered him in shame. He knew she, at any rate, was of his mind. He played on.

At last Mrs. Radford roused herself stiffly, and said:

“Isn’t it nigh on time you two was thinking o’ bed?”

Paul played on without answering. He hated her sufficiently to murder her.

“Half a minute!” he said.

The elder woman rose and sailed stubbornly into the scullery, returning with his candle, which she put on the mantelpiece. Then she sat down again. The hatred of her went so hot down his veins, he dropped his cards.

“We’ll stop, then,” he said, but his voice was still a challenge.

Clara saw his mouth shut hard. Again he glanced at her. It seemed like an agreement. She bent over the cards, coughing, to clear her throat.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve finished,” said Mrs. Radford. “Here, take your things”—she thrust the warm suit in his hand—“and this is your candle. Your room’s over this; there’s only two, so you can’t go far wrong. Well, good-night. I hope you’ll rest well.”

“I’m sure I shall; I always do,” he said.

“Yes; and so you ought at your age,” she replied.

He bade good-night to Clara, and went. The twisting stairs of white, scrubbed wood creaked and clanged at every step. He went doggedly. The two doors faced each other. He went in his room, pushed the door to, without fastening the latch. 22