Women in Love

'What do you want these for?' Wilson asked.

'I want them,' she said. She wished servants did not ask questions.

'Ay, you've said as much. But what do you want them for, for

decoration, or to send away, or what?' 'I want them for a presentation bouquet.' 'A presentation bouquet! Who's coming then?--the Duchess of Portland?' 'No.' 'Oh, not her? Well you'll have a rare poppy-show if you put all the

things you've mentioned into your bouquet.' 'Yes, I want a rare poppy-show.' 'You do! Then there's no more to be said.' The next day Winifred, in a dress of silvery velvet, and holding a

gaudy bunch of flowers in her hand, waited with keen impatience in the

schoolroom, looking down the drive for Gudrun's arrival. It was a wet

morning. Under her nose was the strange fragrance of hot-house flowers,

the bunch was like a little fire to her, she seemed to have a strange

new fire in her heart. This slight sense of romance stirred her like an

intoxicant.

At last she saw Gudrun coming, and she ran downstairs to warn her

father and Gerald. They, laughing at her anxiety and gravity, came with

her into the hall. The man-servant came hastening to the door, and

there he was, relieving Gudrun of her umbrella, and then of her

raincoat. The welcoming party hung back till their visitor entered the

hall.

Gudrun was flushed with the rain, her hair was blown in loose little

curls, she was like a flower just opened in the rain, the heart of the

blossom just newly visible, seeming to emit a warmth of retained

sunshine. Gerald winced in spirit, seeing her so beautiful and unknown.

She was wearing a soft blue dress, and her stockings were of dark red.

Winifred advanced with odd, stately formality.

'We are so glad you've come back,' she said. 'These are your flowers.'

She presented the bouquet.

'Mine!' cried Gudrun. She was suspended for a moment, then a vivid

flush went over her, she was as if blinded for a moment with a flame of

pleasure. Then her eyes, strange and flaming, lifted and looked at the

father, and at Gerald. And again Gerald shrank in spirit, as if it

would be more than he could bear, as her hot, exposed eyes rested on

him. There was something so revealed, she was revealed beyond bearing,

to his eyes. He turned his face aside. And he felt he would not be able

to avert her. And he writhed under the imprisonment.

Gudrun put her face into the flowers.