`And have you felt it before?'
`Yes--often enough.'
`Then why haven't you told me?--and why haven't you seen a doctor?'
Mrs Morel shifted in her chair, angry with him for his hectoring.
`You'd never notice anything,' said Annie. `You're too eager to be off with Miriam.'
`Oh, am I--and any worse than you with Leonard?'
`I was in at a quarter to ten.'
There was silence in the room for a time.
`I should have thought,' said Mrs Morel bitterly, `that she wouldn't have occupied you so entirely as to burn a whole ovenful of bread.'
`Beatrice was here as well as she.'
`Very likely. But we know why the bread is spoilt.'
`Why?' he flashed.
`Because you were engrossed with Miriam,' replied Mrs Morel hotly.
`Oh, very well--then it was not!' he replied angrily.
He was distressed and wretched. Seizing a paper, he began to read. Annie, her blouse unfastened, her long ropes of hair twisted into a plait, went up to bed, bidding him a very curt good-night.
Paul sat pretending to read. He knew his mother wanted to upbraid him. He also wanted to know what had made her ill, for he was troubled. So, instead of running away to bed, as he would have liked to do, he sat and waited. There was a tense silence. The clock ticked loudly.
`You'd better go to bed before your father comes in,' said the mother harshly. `And if you're going to have anything to eat, you'd better get it.'
`I don't want anything.'
It was his mother's custom to bring him some trifle for supper on Friday night, the night of luxury for the colliers. He was too angry to go and find it in the pantry this night. This insulted her.
`If I wanted you to go to Selby on Friday night, I can imagine the scene,' said Mrs Morel. `But you're never too tired to go if she will come for you. Nay, you neither want to eat nor drink then.'
`I can't let her go alone.'
`Can't you? And why does she come?'
`Not because I ask her.'
`She doesn't come without you want her--'
`Well, what if I do want her--' he replied.