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Updated: May 31, 2025
The devil of it was, it was so hard to keep up his interest in women nowadays. He didn't care about them any more. A Pussum was all right in her way, but she was an exceptional case, and even she mattered extremely little. No, women, in that sense, were useless to him any more. He felt that his MIND needed acute stimulation, before he could be physically roused.
NO-O, I won't give it to you, I'll read it aloud. I'll read you the choice bits, hic! Oh dear! Do you think if I drink water it would take off this hiccup? HIC! Oh, I feel perfectly helpless. 'Isn't that the letter about uniting the dark and the light and the Flux of Corruption? asked Maxim, in his precise, quick voice. 'I believe so, said the Pussum. 'Oh is it?
It was not till he was quite close that he perceived the girl. He recoiled, went pale, and said, in a high squealing voice: 'Pussum, what are YOU doing here? The cafe looked up like animals when they hear a cry. Halliday hung motionless, an almost imbecile smile flickering palely on his face.
'Only the Jew thinks he's going to show his courage. But he's the biggest coward of them all, really, because he's afwaid what people will think about him and Julius doesn't care about that. 'They've a lot of valour between them, said Gerald good-humouredly. The Pussum looked at him with a slow, slow smile. She was very handsome, flushed, and confident in dreadful knowledge.
Gerald turned away. There were one or two new pictures in the room, in the Futurist manner; there was a large piano. And these, with some ordinary London lodging-house furniture of the better sort, completed the whole. The Pussum had taken off her hat and coat, and was seated on the sofa. She was evidently quite at home in the house, but uncertain, suspended. She did not quite know her position.
'All right then, go to sleep, said Gerald, and he laid his hand affectionately on the other man's shoulder, and went away. In the morning when Gerald awoke and heard Birkin move, he called out: 'I still think I ought to give the Pussum ten pounds. 'Oh God! said Birkin, 'don't be so matter-of-fact. Close the account in your own soul, if you like. It is there you can't close it.
'Does he love her, the Pussum, or doesn't he? 'He neither does nor doesn't. She is the harlot, the actual harlot of adultery to him. And he's got a craving to throw himself into the filth of her. Then he gets up and calls on the name of the lily of purity, the baby-faced girl, and so enjoys himself all round. It's the old story action and reaction, and nothing between.
'Oh yes, how perfectly HIC! splendid! Don't make me laugh, Pussum, it gives me the hiccup. Hic! They all giggled. 'What did he say in that one? the Pussum asked, leaning forward, her dark, soft hair falling and swinging against her face. There was something curiously indecent, obscene, about her small, longish, dark skull, particularly when the ears showed. 'Wait oh do wait!
It was true, she did not care whether he gave her money or not, and he knew it. But she would have been glad of ten pounds, and he would have been VERY glad to give them to her. Now he felt in a false position. He went away chewing his lips to get at the ends of his short clipped moustache. He knew the Pussum was merely glad to be rid of him. She had got her Halliday whom she wanted.
'I can't tell you I can't find my own way, let alone yours. You might marry, Birkin replied. 'Who the Pussum? asked Gerald. 'Perhaps, said Birkin. And he rose and went to the window. 'That is your panacea, said Gerald. 'But you haven't even tried it on yourself yet, and you are sick enough. 'I am, said Birkin. 'Still, I shall come right. 'Through marriage?
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