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Updated: May 29, 2025
Twilight came on. Mrs. Morel grew anxious from very weariness. One part of her said it would be a relief to see the last of him; another part fretted because of keeping the children; and inside her, as yet, she could not quite let him go. At the bottom, she knew very well he could NOT go. When she went down to the coal-place at the end of the garden, however, she felt something behind the door.
Morel said: "I knocked against the latch of the coal-place, when I was getting a raker in the dark, because the candle blew out." Her two small children looked up at her with wide, dismayed eyes. They said nothing, but their parted lips seemed to express the unconscious tragedy they felt. Walter Morel lay in bed next day until nearly dinner-time. He did not think of the previous evening's work.
When she got downstairs, she would find the house tidy, but dirty. She could not rest until she had thoroughly cleaned; so she went down to the ash-pit with her dustpan. Mrs. Kirk, spying her, would contrive to have to go to her own coal-place at that minute. Then, across the wooden fence, she would call: "So you keep wagging on, then?" "Ay," answered Mrs. Morel deprecatingly.
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