Women in Love

A young grey cat that had been sleeping on the sofa jumped down and

stretched, rising on its long legs, and arching its slim back. Then it

sat considering for a moment, erect and kingly. 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. The

Mino walked statelily up to her, with manly nonchalance. She crouched

before him and pressed herself on the ground in humility, a fluffy soft

outcast, looking up at him with wild eyes that were green and lovely as

great jewels. He looked casually down on her. So she crept a few inches

further, proceeding on her way to the back door, crouching in a

wonderful, soft, self-obliterating manner, and moving like a shadow.

He, going statelily on his slim legs, walked after her, then suddenly,

for pure excess, he gave her a light cuff with his paw on the side of

her face. She ran off a few steps, like a blown leaf along the ground,

then crouched unobtrusively, in submissive, wild patience. The Mino

pretended to take no notice of her. He blinked his eyes superbly at the

landscape. In a minute she drew herself together and moved softly, a

fleecy brown-grey shadow, a few paces forward. She began to quicken her

pace, in a moment she would be gone like a dream, when the young grey

lord sprang before her, and gave her a light handsome cuff. She

subsided at once, submissively.

'She is a wild cat,' said Birkin. 'She has come in from the woods.' The eyes of the stray cat flared round for a moment, like great green

fires staring at Birkin. Then she had rushed in a soft swift rush, half

way down the garden. There she paused to look round. The Mino turned

his face in pure superiority to his master, and slowly closed his eyes,

standing in statuesque young perfection. The wild cat's round, green,

wondering eyes were staring all the while like uncanny fires. Then

again, like a shadow, she slid towards the kitchen.

In a lovely springing leap, like a wind, the Mino was upon her, and had

boxed her twice, very definitely, with a white, delicate fist. She sank

and slid back, unquestioning. He walked after her, and cuffed her once

or twice, leisurely, with sudden little blows of his magic white paws.