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Updated: June 16, 2025
'And you think if I marry, it will be snub? asked Gerald quizzically, his head a little on one side. Birkin laughed quickly. 'How do I know what it will be! he said. 'Don't lambaste me with my own parallels-' Gerald pondered a while. 'But I should like to know your opinion, exactly, he said. 'On your marriage? or marrying? Why should you want my opinion? I've got no opinions.
When Ursula and Birkin were gone, Gudrun felt herself free in her contest with Gerald. As they grew more used to each other, he seemed to press upon her more and more. At first she could manage him, so that her own will was always left free.
It occupied the whole of the night, this great steady booming of water, everything was drowned within it, drowned and lost. Ursula seemed to have to struggle for her life. She put her hands over her ears, and looked at the high bland moon. 'Can't we go now? she cried to Birkin, who was watching the water on the steps, to see if it would get any lower. It seemed to fascinate him.
'He's going to cat, Maxim, said the Pussum warningly. The suave young Russian rose and took Halliday by the arm, leading him away. Birkin, white and diminished, looked on as if he were displeased. The wounded, sardonic young man moved away, ignoring his bleeding hand in the most conspicuous fashion. 'He's an awful coward, really, said the Pussum to Gerald.
Gerald, full-limbed and turgid with energy, stood unwilling to go, he was held by the presence of the other man. He had not the power to go away. 'So, said Birkin. 'Good-bye. And he reached out his hand from under the bed-clothes, smiling with a glimmering look. 'Good-bye, said Gerald, taking the warm hand of his friend in a firm grasp. 'I shall come again. I miss you down at the mill.
Her one motive was to avoid actual contact with events. She only wrote out a long telegram to Ursula and Birkin. In the afternoon, however, she rose suddenly to look for Loerke. She glanced with apprehension at the door of the room that had been Gerald's. Not for worlds would she enter there. She found Loerke sitting alone in the lounge. She went straight up to him.
The great chasm of memory from her childhood in the intimate country surroundings of Cossethay and the Marsh Farm she remembered the servant Tilly, who used to give her bread and butter sprinkled with brown sugar, in the old living-room where the grandfather clock had two pink roses in a basket painted above the figures on the face and now when she was travelling into the unknown with Birkin, an utter stranger was so great, that it seemed she had no identity, that the child she had been, playing in Cossethay churchyard, was a little creature of history, not really herself.
And then, like a dart, it had shot out of the room, through the open window-doors, and into the garden. 'What's he after? said Birkin, rising. The young cat trotted lordly down the path, waving his tail. He was an ordinary tabby with white paws, a slender young gentleman. A crouching, fluffy, brownish-grey cat was stealing up the side of the fence.
It was a torment to her when anybody spoke to her. Her face was like a small, fine mask, sinister too, masked with unwilling suffering. It was almost midday. Gerald rose and went away to his business, glad to get out. But he had not finished. He was coming back again at evening, they were all dining together, and he had booked seats for the party, excepting Birkin, at a music-hall.
'No 'urry, said the young man, grinning suggestive. 'Oh, don't break your neck to get there, said the young woman. ''Slike when you're dead you're long time married. The young man turned aside as if this hit him. 'The longer the better, let us hope, said Birkin. 'That's it, guvnor, said the young man admiringly. 'Enjoy it while it larsts niver whip a dead donkey.
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