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Suddenly Birkin's eyes looked straight and overpowering into those of the other man. 'What do you think is the aim and object of your life, Gerald? he asked. Again Gerald was taken aback. He could not think what his friend was getting at. Was he poking fun, or not? 'At this moment, I couldn't say off-hand, he replied, with faintly ironic humour.
His quick ears caught the sound of Birkin's voice, his keen eyes made out Birkin, with Ursula standing in a pale dress on the step of the garden path. Then Ursula stepped down, and came along the road, holding Birkin's arm. Gerald went across into the darkness and they dawdled past him, talking happily, Birkin's voice low, Ursula's high and distinct. Gerald went quickly to the house.
And during the last months, under the influence of death, and of Birkin's talk, and of Gudrun's penetrating being, he had lost entirely that mechanical certainty that had been his triumph. Sometimes spasms of hatred came over him, against Birkin and Gudrun and that whole set. He wanted to go back to the dullest conservatism, to the most stupid of conventional people.
Then he put his hand affectionately on Birkin's shoulder, saying: 'Don't you bother about me, Rupert. If there's anybody's health to think about, it's yours, not mine. How do you feel yourself? 'Very well. But you, you spoil your own chance of life you waste your best self. Gerald was silent for a moment. Then he said: 'Waste it? What else is there to do with it? 'But leave this, won't you?
He had disposed of the luggage, and they had a little start of the sledges. Ursula was excited and happy, but she kept turning suddenly to catch hold of Birkin's arm, to make sure of him. 'This is something I never expected, she said. 'It is a different world, here. They went on into a snow meadow. There they were overtaken by the sledge, that came tinkling through the silence.
But my daughters are my daughters and it's my business to look after them while I can. Birkin's brows knitted suddenly, his eyes concentrated in mockery. But he remained perfectly stiff and still. There was a pause. 'I've nothing against your marrying Ursula, Brangwen began at length. 'It's got nothing to do with me, she'll do as she likes, me or no me.
'I'll tell you another time, said Gerald coaxingly. 'Come along with me now I want you to come, said Birkin. There was a pause, intense and real. Birkin wondered why his own heart beat so heavily. Then Gerald's fingers gripped hard and communicative into Birkin's shoulder, as he said: 'No, I'll see this job through, Rupert. Thank you I know what you mean. We're all right, you know, you and me.
The evening light, flooding yellow along the fields, lit up Birkin's face with a tense, abstract steadfastness. Gerald still could not make it out. 'Yes, one woman, said Birkin. But to Gerald it sounded as if he were insistent rather than confident. 'I don't believe a woman, and nothing but a woman, will ever make my life, said Gerald.
You force yourself into horrors, and put a mill-stone of beastly memories round your neck. Come away now. 'A mill-stone of beastly memories! Gerald repeated. Then he put his hand again affectionately on Birkin's shoulder. 'God, you've got such a telling way of putting things, Rupert, you have. Birkin's heart sank. He was irritated and weary of having a telling way of putting things.
'Keep it for an ornyment, said the young man. 'Good afternoon Good afternoon, said Ursula and Birkin. 'Goo'-luck to you, said the young man, glancing and avoiding Birkin's eyes, as he turned aside his head. The two couples went asunder, Ursula clinging to Birkin's arm. When they had gone some distance, she glanced back and saw the young man going beside the full, easy young woman.
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