D. H. Lawrence's 'Odour of Chrysanthemums'

" 'Asn't 'e! Oh, Jack's been 'ome an 'ad 'is dinner long
since. E's just gone for 'alf an 'our afore bed-time, but 'e
won't be long.* Did you call at th' 'Prince of Wales'?"
"No----"

"No, you didn't like----! Its not very nice, is it?"
the other woman was indulgent and kind. There was an
awkward pause. "Jack never said nothink about--about your
Mester,"* she added.

"No! -- I expect he's stuck in there!"

Elizabeth Bates said this bitterly, and with recklessness.
She knew that the woman across the yard was standing at her
door listening, but she was sick, and did not care. She was
turning away.

"Stop a minute! I'll just go an' ask Jack if 'e knows any-
think* ," said Mrs. Rigley.

"Oh, no -- I wouldn't like to put ----!"

"Yes, I will, if you'll just step inside an' see as th' childer
doesn't come downstairs and set theirselves afire."*

Elizabeth Bates, murmuring a remonstrance, stepped inside,
hesitating at the kitchen door.

"Come in! Sit you down. I shanna be a minute. Dunna
look at th' 'ouse, Ah'n on'y just got 'em off to bed."*

The kitchen needed apology. There were little frocks and
trousers and childish undergarments on the squab* and on the
floor, and a litter of playthings everywhere. On the black
American cloth* of the table were pieces of bread and cake,
crusts, and a teapot with cold tea.

"Eh, ours is just as bad," said Elizabeth Bates, looking at
the woman, not at the house. Mrs. Rigley put a shawl over
her head and hurried out, saying:

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