Women in Love

'Why not like that?' he mocked. And immediately he dropped again into

the incredibly rapid, slack-waggling dance, watching her malevolently.

And moving in the rapid, stationary dance, he came a little nearer, and

reached forward with an incredibly mocking, satiric gleam on his face,

and would have kissed her again, had she not started back.

'No, don't!' she cried, really afraid.

'Cordelia after all,' he said satirically. She was stung, as if this

were an insult. She knew he intended it as such, and it bewildered her.

'And you,' she cried in retort, 'why do you always take your soul in

your mouth, so frightfully full?' 'So that I can spit it out the more readily,' he said, pleased by his

own retort.

Gerald Crich, his face narrowing to an intent gleam, followed up the

hill with quick strides, straight after Gudrun. The cattle stood with

their noses together on the brow of a slope, watching the scene below,

the men in white hovering about the white forms of the women, watching

above all Gudrun, who was advancing slowly towards them. She stood a

moment, glancing back at Gerald, and then at the cattle.

Then in a sudden motion, she lifted her arms and rushed sheer upon the

long-horned bullocks, in shuddering irregular runs, pausing for a

second and looking at them, then lifting her hands and running forward

with a flash, till they ceased pawing the ground, and gave way,

snorting with terror, lifting their heads from the ground and flinging

themselves away, galloping off into the evening, becoming tiny in the

distance, and still not stopping.

Gudrun remained staring after them, with a mask-like defiant face.

'Why do you want to drive them mad?' asked Gerald, coming up with her.

She took no notice of him, only averted her face from him. 'It's not

safe, you know,' he persisted. 'They're nasty, when they do turn.' 'Turn where? Turn away?' she mocked loudly.

'No,' he said, 'turn against you.' 'Turn against ME?' she mocked.

He could make nothing of this.

'Anyway, they gored one of the farmer's cows to death, the other day,'

he said.

'What do I care?' she said.

'I cared though,' he replied, 'seeing that they're my cattle.' 'How are they yours! You haven't swallowed them. Give me one of them

now,' she said, holding out her hand.

'You know where they are,' he said, pointing over the hill. 'You can

have one if you'd like it sent to you later on.' She looked at him inscrutably.