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And the girls followed, weak with laughter. When the people had passed by, Brangwen cried in a loud, stupid voice: 'I'm going back home if there's any more of this. I'm damned if I'm going to be made a fool of in this fashion, in the public road. He was really out of temper.
Birkin was the good angel. He came smiling to them with his affected social grace, that somehow was never QUITE right. But he took off his hat and smiled at them with a real smile in his eyes, so that Brangwen cried out heartily in relief: 'How do you do? You're better, are you? 'Yes, I'm better. How do you do, Mrs Brangwen? I know Gudrun and Ursula very well.
'Then we shan't have names any more we shall be like the Germans, nothing but Herr Obermeister and Herr Untermeister. I can imagine it "I am Mrs Colliery-Manager Crich I am Mrs Member-of-Parliament Roddice. I am Miss Art-Teacher Brangwen." Very pretty that. 'Things would work very much better, Miss Art-Teacher Brangwen, said Gerald. 'What things, Mr Colliery-Manager Crich?
'Well, Winifred, said the father, 'aren't you glad Miss Brangwen has come? She makes animals and birds in wood and in clay, that the people in London write about in the papers, praising them to the skies. Winifred smiled slightly. 'Who told you, Daddie? she asked. 'Who told me? Hermione told me, and Rupert Birkin.
A point of light came on the golden-brown eyes of the elder man. 'O-oh? he said, looking at Birkin, then dropping his eyes before the calm, steadily watching look of the other: 'Was she expecting you then? 'No, said Birkin. 'No? I didn't know anything of this sort was on foot Brangwen smiled awkwardly.
Ursula and Gudrun Brangwen sat one morning in the window-bay of their father's house in Beldover, working and talking. Ursula was stitching a piece of brightly-coloured embroidery, and Gudrun was drawing upon a board which she held on her knee. They were mostly silent, talking as their thoughts strayed through their minds.
'Mm-m-er! booed Ursula, pulling a face at his crossness. The yellow lights danced in his eyes, he leaned forward in real rage. 'Don't be so silly as to take any notice of the great gabies, said Mrs Brangwen, turning on her way. 'I'll see if I'm going to be followed by a pair of giggling yelling jackanapes he cried vengefully.
'Yes, Miss Brangwen, she said, in her slightly whining, insinuating voice, 'and how do you like being back in the old place, then? Gudrun, whom she addressed, hated her at once. 'I don't care for it, she replied abruptly. 'You don't? Ay, well, I suppose you found a difference from London. You like life, and big, grand places. Some of us has to be content with Willey Green and Beldover.
Gerald walked quickly through the raw darkness of the coming dawn. He met nobody. His mind was beautifully still and thoughtless, like a still pool, and his body full and warm and rich. He went quickly along towards Shortlands, in a grateful self-sufficiency. The Brangwen family was going to move from Beldover. It was necessary now for the father to be in town.
Women, their arms folded over their coarse aprons, standing gossiping at the end of their block, stared after the Brangwen sisters with that long, unwearying stare of aborigines; children called out names. Gudrun went on her way half dazed. If this were human life, if these were human beings, living in a complete world, then what was her own world, outside?
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