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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.
"Why, nothing, if it was sensible or reasonable. But to go trapseing up
there miles and miles in the mud, coming home at midnight, and got to go
to Nottingham in the morning--"
"If I hadn't, you'd be just the same."
"Yes, I should, because there's no sense in it. Is she so fascinating
that you must follow her all that way?" Mrs. Morel was bitterly
sarcastic. She sat still, with averted face, stroking with a rhythmic,
jerked movement, the black sateen of her apron. It was a movement that
hurt Paul to see.
"I do like her," he said, "but--"
"LIKE her!" said Mrs.


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