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Updated: May 25, 2025
Dawes stood a moment looking bitterly on the scene, then he took his departure. Thomas Jordan was shaken and braised, not otherwise hurt. He was, however, beside himself with rage. He dismissed Dawes from his employment, and summoned him for assault. At the trial Paul Morel had to give evidence. Asked how the trouble began, he said: "Dawes took occasion to insult Mrs.
As they came out and went along the railway, with the sunny autumn field on one side and a wall of trucks on the other, Morel said in a frightened voice: "'E's niver gone, child?" "Yes." "When wor't?" "Last night. We had a telegram from my mother." Morel walked on a few strides, then leaned up against a truck-side, his hand over his eyes. He was not crying. Paul stood looking round, waiting.
Some of them she had taken the trouble to read herself. But most were too trivial. Now, on the Saturday morning he said: "Come on, Postle, let's go through my letters, and you can have the birds and flowers." Mrs. Morel had done her Saturday's work on the Friday, because he was having a last day's holiday. She was making him a rice cake, which he loved, to take with him.
Presently the girl came out. "Tea is ready, mother," she said in a musical, quiet voice. "Oh, thank you, Miriam, then we'll come," replied her mother, almost ingratiatingly. "Would you CARE to have tea now, Mrs. Morel?" "Of course," said Mrs. Morel. "Whenever it's ready." Paul and his mother and Mrs. Leivers had tea together.
Thanks to the generosity of Rudolph, and the care and attention which he had caused to be shown her, the mother of Louise Morel, who accompanied her, had recovered her health. The porter at the gate had asked Madame George whom she desired to see; she replied that one of the physicians of the asylum for the insane had made an appointment with her and her friends at eleven o'clock.
Of them all one only has any interest for us Miss Helen Morel, late of Manila. Her place was next to his at the table. Like J.W., she was traveling alone, and before they had been on board twenty-four hours they had discovered that both were Methodists; he, from Delafield in the Middle West, she from Pennsylvania.
He had nearly finished arranging the flowers when he heard his mother's footstep on the stairs. Hurriedly he pushed in the last pin and turned away. "Don't let mater know," he said. Miriam picked up her books and stood in the doorway looking with chagrin at the beautiful sunset. She would call for Paul no more, she said. "Good-evening, Mrs. Morel," she said, in a deferential way.
Morel had kicked William, and the mother would never forgive him. She went over the sheep-bridge and across a corner of the meadow to the cricket-ground. The meadows seemed one space of ripe, evening light, whispering with the distant mill-race. She sat on a seat under the alders in the cricket-ground, and fronted the evening.
The whole party laughed till they cried, trying to subdue the sound. And Mrs. Morel, lying alone in the darkness heard them, and among her bitterness was a feeling of relief. Then Paul would go upstairs gingerly, guiltily, to see if she had heard. "Shall I give you some milk?" he asked. "A little," she replied plaintively. And he would put some water with it, so that it should not nourish her.
"They're working very late now, aren't they?" she said to her washer-woman. "No later than they allers do, I don't think. But they stop to have their pint at Ellen's, an' they get talkin', an' there you are! Dinner stone cold an' it serves 'em right." "But Mr. Morel does not take any drink." The woman dropped the clothes, looked at Mrs. Morel, then went on with her work, saying nothing.
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