Page:The Trespasser, Lawrence, 1912.djvu/215

Rh “Why don’t you go down and ask?” Vera called crossly from the bedroom.

And at the same moment Beatrice answered, also crossly: “What do you want?”

“Where’s my stockings?” cried the child at the top of her voice.

“Why do you ask me? Are they down here?” replied her mother. “What are you shouting for?”

The child podded downstairs. Directly she returned, and as she passed into Vera’s room, she grumbled: “And now they’re not mended.”

Siegmund heard a sound that made his heart beat. It was the crackling of the sides of the crib, as Gwen, his little girl of five, climbed out. She was silent for a space. He imagined her sitting on the white rug and pulling on her stockings. Then there came the quick little thud of her feet as she went downstairs.

“Mam,” Siegmund heard her say as she went down the hall, “has dad come?”

The answer and the child’s further talk were lost in the distance of the kitchen. The small, anxious question, and the quick thudding of Gwen’s feet, made Siegmund lie still with torture. He wanted to hear no more. He lay shrinking within himself. It seemed that his soul was sensitive to madness. He felt that he could not, come what might, get up and meet them all.

The front door banged, and he heard Frank’s hasty call: “Good-bye!” Evidently the lad was in an ill-humour. Siegmund listened for the sound of the train; it seemed an age; the boy would catch it. Then the water from the wash-hand bowl in the bathroom ran loudly out. That, he supposed, was Vera,