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It was as if Birkin's whole physical intelligence interpenetrated into Gerald's body, as if his fine, sublimated energy entered into the flesh of the fuller man, like some potency, casting a fine net, a prison, through the muscles into the very depths of Gerald's physical being.
Nevertheless she was silent. The cyclist, having heard the voices raised in altercation, glanced curiously at the man, and the woman, and at the standing motor-car as he passed. Afternoon, he said, cheerfully. 'Good-afternoon, replied Birkin coldly. They were silent as the man passed into the distance. A clearer look had come over Birkin's face. He knew she was in the main right.
I believe in the ADDITIONAL perfect relationship between man and man additional to marriage. 'I can never see how they can be the same, said Gerald. 'Not the same but equally important, equally creative, equally sacred, if you like. 'I know, said Gerald, 'you believe something like that. Only I can't FEEL it, you see. He put his hand on Birkin's arm, with a sort of deprecating affection.
This was always present in Gerald's consciousness, filling him with bitter unbelief: this consciousness of the young, animal-like spontaneity of detachment. It seemed almost like hypocrisy and lying, sometimes, oh, often, on Birkin's part, to talk so deeply and importantly. Quite other things were going through Birkin's mind.
Now Birkin started violently at seeing this genial look flash on to Gerald's face, at seeing Gerald approaching with hand outstretched. 'Hallo, Rupert, where are you going? 'London. So are you, I suppose. 'Yes Gerald's eyes went over Birkin's face in curiosity. 'We'll travel together if you like, he said. 'Don't you usually go first? asked Birkin. 'I can't stand the crowd, replied Gerald.
Gerald listened with a faint, fine smile on his face, all the time, as if, somewhere, he knew so much better than Birkin, all about this: as if his own knowledge were direct and personal, whereas Birkin's was a matter of observation and inference, not quite hitting the nail on the head: though aiming near enough at it. But he was not going to give himself away.
He looked over all the dim, evanescent, strangely illuminated faces that bent across the tables. Then he saw Birkin rise and signal to him. At Birkin's table was a girl with dark, soft, fluffy hair cut short in the artist fashion, hanging level and full almost like the Egyptian princess's. She was small and delicately made, with warm colouring and large, dark hostile eyes.
Brangwen looked up, and saw Birkin looking at him. His face was covered with inarticulate anger and humiliation and sense of inferiority in strength. 'And as for beliefs, that's one thing, he said. 'But I'd rather see my daughters dead tomorrow than that they should be at the beck and call of the first man that likes to come and whistle for them. A queer painful light came into Birkin's eyes.
The following night Gubin and I chanced to see Peter Birkin's tall, pale, timid young wife traverse the garden on her way to a tryst in the washhouse with her lover, the precentor of the Prince's Church.
Birkin's eyes were at the moment full of anger. But swiftly they became troubled, doubtful, then full of a warm, rich affectionateness and laughter. 'It troubles me very much, Gerald, he said, wrinkling his brows. 'I can see it does, said Gerald, uncovering his mouth in a manly, quick, soldierly laugh. Gerald was held unconsciously by the other man.
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