Women in Love

They found Winifred at the lodge admiring the litter of purebred white

puppies. The girl looked up, and there was a rather ugly, unseeing cast

in her eyes as she turned to Gerald and Gudrun. She did not want to see

them.

'Look!' she cried. 'Three new puppies! Marshall says this one seems

perfect. Isn't it a sweetling? But it isn't so nice as its mother.' She

turned to caress the fine white bull-terrier bitch that stood uneasily

near her.

'My dearest Lady Crich,' she said, 'you are beautiful as an angel on

earth. Angel--angel--don't you think she's good enough and beautiful

enough to go to heaven, Gudrun? They will be in heaven, won't they--and

ESPECIALLY my darling Lady Crich! Mrs Marshall, I say!' 'Yes, Miss Winifred?' said the woman, appearing at the door.

'Oh do call this one Lady Winifred, if she turns out perfect, will you?

Do tell Marshall to call it Lady Winifred.' 'I'll tell him--but I'm afraid that's a gentleman puppy, Miss

Winifred.' 'Oh NO!' There was the sound of a car. 'There's Rupert!' cried the

child, and she ran to the gate.

Birkin, driving his car, pulled up outside the lodge gate.

'We're ready!' cried Winifred. 'I want to sit in front with you,

Rupert. May I?' 'I'm afraid you'll fidget about and fall out,' he said.

'No I won't. I do want to sit in front next to you. It makes my feet so

lovely and warm, from the engines.' Birkin helped her up, amused at sending Gerald to sit by Gudrun in the

body of the car.

'Have you any news, Rupert?' Gerald called, as they rushed along the

lanes.

'News?' exclaimed Birkin.

'Yes,' Gerald looked at Gudrun, who sat by his side, and he said, his

eyes narrowly laughing, 'I want to know whether I ought to congratulate

him, but I can't get anything definite out of him.' Gudrun flushed deeply.

'Congratulate him on what?' she asked.

'There was some mention of an engagement--at least, he said something

to me about it.' Gudrun flushed darkly.

'You mean with Ursula?' she said, in challenge.

'Yes. That is so, isn't it?' 'I don't think there's any engagement,' said Gudrun, coldly.

'That so? Still no developments, Rupert?' he called.

'Where? Matrimonial? No.' 'How's that?' called Gudrun.

Birkin glanced quickly round. There was irritation in his eyes also.

'Why?' he replied. 'What do you think of it, Gudrun?' 'Oh,' she cried, determined to fling her stone also into the pool,

since they had begun, 'I don't think she wants an engagement.

Naturally, she's a bird that prefers the bush.' Gudrun's voice was

clear and gong-like. It reminded Rupert of her father's, so strong and

vibrant.