David Herbert Lawrence

She advanced a little nearer, menacing in her black dress. James

shrank.

"What manager?" he re-echoed. "My manager. The manager of my

cinema."

Miss Pinnegar looked at him, and looked at him, and did not speak.

In that moment all the anger which was due to him from all womanhood

was silently discharged at him, like a black bolt of silent

electricity. But Miss Pinnegar, the engine of wrath, felt she would

burst.

"Cinema! Cinema! Do you mean to tell me--" but she was really

suffocated, the vessels of her heart and breast were bursting. She

had to lean her hand on the table.

It was a terrible moment. She looked ghastly and terrible, with her

mask-like face and her stony eyes and her bluish lips. Some fearful

thunderbolt seemed to fall. James withered, and was still. There was

silence for minutes, a suspension.

And in those minutes, she finished with him. She finished with him

for ever. When she had sufficiently recovered, she went to her

chair, and sat down before her plate. And in a while she began to

eat, as if she were alone.

Poor Alvina, for whom this had been a dreadful and uncalled-for

moment, had looked from one to another, and had also dropped her

head to her plate. James too, with bent head, had forgotten to eat.

Miss Pinnegar ate very slowly, alone.

"Don't you want your dinner, Alvina?" she said at length.

"Not as much as I did," said Alvina.

"Why not?" said Miss Pinnegar. She sounded short, almost like Miss

Frost. Oddly like Miss Frost.

Alvina took up her fork and began to eat automatically.

"I always think," said Miss Pinnegar, "Irish stew is more tasty with

a bit of Swede in it."

"So do I, really," said Alvina. "But Swedes aren't come yet."

"Oh! Didn't we have some on Tuesday?"

"No, they were yellow turnips--but they weren't Swedes."

"Well then, yellow turnip. I like a little yellow turnip," said Miss

Pinnegar.

"I might have put some in, if I'd known," said Alvina.

"Yes. We will another time," said Miss Pinnegar.

Not another word about the cinema: not another breath. As soon as

James had eaten his plum tart, he ran away.

"What can he have been doing?" said Alvina when he had gone.

"Buying a cinema show--and that man we saw is his manager. It's

quite simple."

"But what are we going to do with a cinema show?" said Alvina.

"It's what is _he_ going to do. It doesn't concern me. It's no

concern of mine. I shall not lend him anything, I shall not think

about it, it will be the same to me as if there _were_ no cinema.

Which is all I have to say," announced Miss Pinnegar.

"But he's gone and done it," said Alvina.

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