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SONS AND LOVERS
“What can a woman do! “ she replied bitterly. “Is it sweated? “
“More or less. Isn’t ALL woman’s work? That’s another
trick the men have played, since we force ourselves into the
labour market. “
“Now then, you shut up about the men, “ said her mother. “If the women wasn’t fools, the men wouldn’t be bad uns,
that’s what I say. No man was ever that bad wi’ me but what he
got it back again. Not but what they’re a lousy lot, there’s no
denying it.”
“But they’re all right really, aren’t they?” he asked.
“Well, they’re a bit different from women,” she answered.
“Would you care to be back at Jordan’s?” he asked Clara. “I
don’t think so, she replied.
“Yes, she would! “ cried her mother; “thank her stars if she
could get back. Don’t you listen to her. She’s for ever on that
‘igh horse of hers, an’ it’s back’s that thin an’ starved it’ll cut
her in two one of these days.
Clara suffered badly from her mother. Paul felt as if his
eyes were coming very wide open. Wasn’t he to take Clara’s
fulminations so seriously, after all? She spun steadily at her
work. He experienced a thrill of joy, thinking she might
need his help. She seemed denied and deprived of so much.
And her arm moved mechanically, that should never have
been subdued to a mechanism, and her head was bowed to
the lace, that never should have been bowed. She seemed to
be stranded there among the refuse that life has thrown
away, doing her jennying. It was a bitter thing to her to be
put aside by life, as if it had no use for her. No wonder she
protested.
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DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE
She came with him to the door. He stood below in the
mean street, looking up at her. So fine she was in her stature
and her bearing, she reminded him of Juno dethroned. As she
stood in the doorway, she winced from the street, from her surroundings.
“And you will go with Mrs. Hodgkisson to Hucknall? He
was talking quite meaninglessly, only watching her. Her grey
eyes at last met his. They looked dumb with humiliation,
pleading with a kind of captive misery. He was shaken and at
a loss. He had thought her high and mighty.
When he left her, he wanted to run. He went to the station in a sort of dream, and was at home without realising
he had moved out of her street.
He had an idea that Susan, the overseer of the Spiral girls,
was about to be married. He asked her the next day.
“I say, Susan, I heard a whisper of your getting married.
What about it?
Susan flushed red.
“Who’s been talking to you? she replied.
“Nobody. I merely heard a whisper that you WERE thinking – ” “Well, I am, though you needn’t tell anybody. What’s
more, I wish I wasn’t!”
“Nay, Susan, you won’t make me believe that.”
“Shan’t I? You CAN believe it, though. I’d rather stop
here a thousand times.”
Paul was perturbed. “Why, Susan? “
The girl’s colour was high, and her eyes flashed. “That’s why! “
“And must you? “
For answer, she looked at him. There was about him a
candour and gentleness which made the women trust him.
He understood.
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SONS AND LOVERS
“Ah, I’m sorry, “ he said.
Tears came to her eyes.
“But you’ll see it’ll turn out all right. You’ll make the best
of it, “ he continued rather wistfully.
“There’s nothing else for it. “
“Yea, there’s making the worst of it. Try and make it all
right. “ He soon made occasion to call again on Clara.
“Would you,” he said, “care to come back to Jordan’s?”
She put down her work, laid her beautiful arms on
the table, and looked at him for some moments without
answering. Gradually the flush mounted her cheek.
“Why? “ she asked.
Paul felt rather awkward.
“Well, because Susan is thinking of leaving,” he said.
Clara went on with her jennying. The white lace leaped
in little jumps and bounds on to the card. He waited for her.
Without raising her head, she said at last, in a peculiar low
voice:
“Have you said anything about it? “ “Except to you, not a
word. “
There was again a long silence.
“I will apply when the advertisement is out,” she said.
“You will apply before that. I will let you know exactly
when. “
She went on spinning her little machine, and did not contradict him. Clara came to Jordan’s. Some of the older hands,
Fanny among them, remembered her earlier rule, and cordially disliked the memory. Clara had always been “ikey”,
reserved, and superior. She had never mixed with the girls as
one of themselves. If she had occasion to find fault, she did it
coolly and with perfect politeness, which the defaulter felt
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DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE
to be a bigger insult than crassness. Towards Fanny, the poor,
overstrung hunchback, Clara was unfailingly compassionate
and gentle, as a result of which Fanny shed more bitter
tears than ever the rough tongues of the other overseers had
caused her.
There was something in Clara that Paul disliked, and
much that piqued him. If she were about, he always watched
her strong throat or her neck, upon which the blonde hair
grew low and fluffy. There was a fine down, almost invisible, upon the skin of her face and arms, and when once he
had perceived it, he saw it always.
When he was at his work, painting in the afternoon, she
would come and stand near to him, perfectly motionless.
Then he felt her, though she neither spoke nor touched him.
Although she stood a yard away he felt as if he were in contact with her. Then he could paint no more. He flung down
the brushes, and turned to talk to her.
Sometimes she praised his work; sometimes she was critical and cold.
“You are affected in that piece, “ she would say; and, as
there was an element of truth in her condemnation, his blood
boiled with anger.
Again: “What of this?” he would ask enthusiastically.
“H’m! “ She made a small doubtful sound. “It doesn’t interest me much.”
“Because you don’t understand it,” he retorted. “Then why
ask me about it?”
“Because I thought you would understand. “
She would shrug her shoulders in scorn of his work.
She maddened him. He was furious. Then he abused her,
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SONS AND LOVERS
and went into passionate exposition of his stuff. This amused
and stimulated her. But she never owned that she had been
wrong.
During the ten years that she had belonged to the
women’s movement she had acquired a fair amount of education, and, having had some of Miriam’s passion to be
instructed, had taught herself
French, and could read in that language with a struggle.
She considered herself as a woman apart, and particularly
apart, from her class. The girls in the Spiral department were all
of good homes. It was a small, special industry, and had a certain distinction. There was an air of refinement in both rooms.
But Clara was aloof also from her fellow – workers.
None of these things, however, did she reveal to Paul.
She was not the one to give herself away. There was a sense
of mystery about her. She was so reserved, he felt she had
much to reserve. Her history was open on the surface, but
its inner meaning was hidden from everybody. It was exciting. And then sometimes he caught her looking at him
from under her brows with an almost furtive, sullen scrutiny, which made him move quickly. Often she met his eyes.
But then her own were, as it were, covered over, revealing
nothing. She gave him a little, lenient smile. She was to him
extraordinarily provocative, because of the knowledge she
seemed to possess, and gathered fruit of experience he could
not attain.
One day he picked up a copy of
Lettres de man Moulin from her
work bench.
“You read French, do you? “ he cried.
Clara glanced round negligently. She was making an elastic stocking of heliotrope silk, turning the Spiral machine
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DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE
with slow, balanced regularity, occasionally bending down
to see her work or to adjust the needles; then her magnificent neck, with its down and fine pencils of hair, shone
white against the lavender, lustrous silk. She turned a few
more rounds, and stopped.
“What did you say?” she asked, smiling sweetly. Paul’s
eyes glittered at her insolent indifference to him. “I did not
know you read French, “ he said, very polite.
“Did you not? “ she replied, with a faint, sarcastic smile. “Rotten swank! “ he said, but scarcely loud enough to be heard.
He shut his mouth angrily as he watched her. She seemed
to scorn the work she mechanically produced; yet the hose
she made were as nearly perfect as possible.
“You don’t like Spiral work, he said.
“Oh, well, all work is work, “ she answered, as if she knew
all about it.
He marvelled at her coldness. He had to do everything
hotly. She must be something special.
“What would you prefer to do? he asked. She laughed at
him indulgently, as she said:
“There is so little likelihood of my ever being given a
choice, that I haven’t wasted time considering.
“Pah! “ he said, contemptuous on his side now. “You only
say that because you’re too proud to own up what you want
and can’t get.”
“You know me very well, she replied coldly.
“I know you think you’re terrific great shakes, and that you
live under the eternal insult of working in a factory.”
He was very angry and very rude. She merely turned
away from him in disdain. He walked whistling down the
room, flirted and laughed with Hilda.
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SONS AND LOVERS
Later on he said to himself:
“What was I so impudent to Clara for? “ He was rather
annoyed with himself, at the same time glad. “Serve her right;
she stinks with silent pride,” he said to himself angrily.
In the afternoon he came down. There was a certain
weight on his heart which he wanted to remove. He thought
to do it by offering her chocolates.
“Have one? he said. “I bought a handful to sweeten me up.
To his great relief, she accepted. He sat on the work –
bench beside her machine, twisting a piece of silk round his
finger. She loved him for his quick, unexpected movements,
like a young animal. His feet swung as he pondered. The
sweets lay strewn on the bench. She bent over her machine,
grinding rhythmically, then stooping to see the stocking
that hung beneath, pulled down by the weight. He watched
the handsome crouching of her back, and the apron –
strings curling on the floor.
“There is always about you, he said, “a sort of waiting. Whatever I see you doing, you’re not really there: you are waiting –
like Penelope when she did her weaving. He could not help a
spurt of wickedness. “I’ll call you Penelope, “ he said.
“Would it make any difference?” she said, carefully removing one of her needles.
“That doesn’t matter, so long as it pleases me. Here, I say,
you seem to forget I’m your boss. It just occurs to me.
“And what does that mean? she asked coolly.
“It means I’ve got a right to boss you.
“Is there anything you want to complain about?
“Oh, I say, you needn’t be nasty, he said angrily.
“I don’t know what you want, she said, continuing her task.
“I want you to treat me nicely and respectfully.
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DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE
“Call you ‘sir’, perhaps? she asked quietly. “Yes, call me ‘sir’.
I should love it.
“Then I wish you would go upstairs, sir.
His mouth closed, and a frown came on his face. He
jumped suddenly down.
“You’re too blessed superior for anything, he said.
And he went away to the other girls. He felt he was being angrier than he had any need to be. In fact, he doubted
slightly that he was showing off. But if he were, then he
would. Clara heard him laughing, in a way she hated, with
the girls down the next room.
When at evening he went through the department after
the girls had gone, he saw his chocolates lying untouched in
front of Clara’s machine. He left them. In the morning they
were still there, and Clara was at work. Later on Minnie, a
little brunette they called Pussy, called to him:
“Hey, haven’t you got a chocolate for anybody?”
“Sorry, Pussy, “ he replied. “I meant to have offered them;
then I went and forgot ‘em. “
“I think you did, “ she answered.
“I’ll bring you some this afternoon. You don’t want
them after they’ve been lying about, do you?”
“Oh, I’m not particular,” smiled Pussy. “Oh no, “ he said.
“They’ll be dusty. “ He went up to Clara’s bench.
“Sorry I left these things littering about, “ he said.
She flushed scarlet. He gathered them together in his fist.
“They’ll be dirty now, “ he said. “You should have
taken them. I wonder why you didn’t. I meant to have told
you I wanted you to.”
He flung them out of the window into the yard below.
He just glanced at her. She winced from his eyes.
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SONS AND LOVERS
In the afternoon he brought another packet.
“Will you take some? “ he said, offering them first to Clara.
“These are fresh. “
She accepted one, and put it on to the bench.
“Oh, take several – for luck, he said.
She took a couple more, and put them on the bench
also. Then she turned in confusion to her work. He went on
up the room.
“Here you are, Pussy, he said. “Don’t be greedy! “Are they all
for her? cried the others, rushing up. “Of course they’re not, he
said.
The girls clamoured round. Pussy drew back from her
mates. “Come out! she cried. “I can have first pick, can’t I, Paul?
“Be nice with ‘em, he said, and went away.
“You ARE a dear, “ the girls cried. “Tenpence, he answered.
He went past Clara without speaking. She felt the three
chocolate creams would burn her if she touched them. It
needed all her courage to slip them into the pocket of her
apron.
The girls loved him and were afraid of him. He was so nice
while he was nice, but if he were offended, so distant, treating
them as if they scarcely existed, or not more than the bobbins of
thread. And then, if they were impudent, he said quietly: “Do
you mind going on with your work, and stood and watched.
When he celebrated his twenty – third birthday, the
house was in trouble. Arthur was just going to be married.
His mother was not well. His father, getting an old man,
and lame from his accidents, was given a paltry, poor job.
Miriam was an eternal reproach. He felt he owed himself to
her, yet could not give himself. The house, moreover, needed
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DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE
his support. He was pulled in all directions. He was not glad
it was his birthday. It made him bitter.
He got to work at eight o’clock. Most of the clerks had
not turned up. The girls were not due till 8.30. As he was
changing his coat, he heard a voice behind him say:
“Paul, Paul, I want you. “
It was Fanny, the hunchback, standing at the top of
her stairs, her face radiant with a secret. Paul looked at her
in astonishment.
“I want you, “ she said. He stood, at a loss.
“Come on,” she coaxed. “Come before you begin on the letters.”
He went down the half – dozen steps into her dry, narrow,
“finishing off” room. Fanny walked before him: her black bodice was short the waist was under her armpits – and her
green – black cashmere skirt seemed very long, as she strode
with big strides before the young man, himself so graceful.
She went to her seat at the narrow end of the room, where
the window opened on to chimney – pots. Paul watched her
thin hands and her flat red wrists as she excitedly twitched her
white apron, which was spread on the bench in front of her.
She hesitated.
“You didn’t think we’d forgot you? “ she asked, reproachful.
“Why? “ he asked. He had forgotten his birthday himself.
‘”Why, ‘ he says! ‘Why! ‘ Why, look here! “ She pointed to
the calendar, and he saw, surrounding the big black number
“21”, hundreds of little crosses in black – lead.
“Oh, kisses for my birthday, “ he laughed. “How did you know?
“ “Yes, you want to know, don’t you? “ Fanny mocked,
hugely delighted. “There’s one from everybody – except Lady
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