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They waited and waited.
"Should we go, mother?" he said.
Then Mrs. Morel stood up. The girl was passing near.
"Will you bring one currant tart?" said Mrs. Morel clearly.
The girl looked round insolently.
"Directly," she said.
"We have waited quite long enough," said Mrs. Morel.
In a moment the girl came back with the tart. Mrs. Morel asked coldly
for the bill. Paul wanted to sink through the floor. He marvelled at his
mother's hardness. He knew that only years of battling had taught her to
insist even so little on her rights. She shrank as much as he.
"It's the last time I go THERE for anything!" she declared, when they
were outside the place, thankful to be clear.
"We'll go," she said, "and look at Keep's and Boot's, and one or two
places, shall we?"
They had discussions over the pictures, and Mrs. Morel wanted to buy
him a little sable brush that be hankered after. But this indulgence he
refused. He stood in front of milliners' shops and drapers' shops almost
bored, but content for her to be interested.


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