Women in Love

They were glad, and they could forget perfectly. They laughed, and went

to the meal provided. There was a venison pasty, of all things, a large

broad-faced cut ham, eggs and cresses and red beet-root, and medlars

and apple-tart, and tea.

'What GOOD things!' she cried with pleasure. 'How noble it

looks!--shall I pour out the tea?--' She was usually nervous and uncertain at performing these public

duties, such as giving tea. But today she forgot, she was at her ease,

entirely forgetting to have misgivings. The tea-pot poured beautifully

from a proud slender spout. Her eyes were warm with smiles as she gave

him his tea. She had learned at last to be still and perfect.

'Everything is ours,' she said to him.

'Everything,' he answered.

She gave a queer little crowing sound of triumph.

'I'm so glad!' she cried, with unspeakable relief.

'So am I,' he said. 'But I'm thinking we'd better get out of our

responsibilities as quick as we can.' 'What responsibilities?' she asked, wondering.

'We must drop our jobs, like a shot.' A new understanding dawned into her face.

'Of course,' she said, 'there's that.' 'We must get out,' he said. 'There's nothing for it but to get out,

quick.' She looked at him doubtfully across the table.

'But where?' she said.

'I don't know,' he said. 'We'll just wander about for a bit.' Again she looked at him quizzically.

'I should be perfectly happy at the Mill,' she said.

'It's very near the old thing,' he said. 'Let us wander a bit.' His voice could be so soft and happy-go-lucky, it went through her

veins like an exhilaration. Nevertheless she dreamed of a valley, and

wild gardens, and peace. She had a desire too for splendour--an

aristocratic extravagant splendour. Wandering seemed to her like

restlessness, dissatisfaction.

'Where will you wander to?' she asked.

'I don't know. I feel as if I would just meet you and we'd set

off--just towards the distance.' 'But where can one go?' she asked anxiously. 'After all, there is only

the world, and none of it is very distant.' 'Still,' he said, 'I should like to go with you--nowhere. It would be

rather wandering just to nowhere. That's the place to get to--nowhere.

One wants to wander away from the world's somewheres, into our own

nowhere.' Still she meditated.

'You see, my love,' she said, 'I'm so afraid that while we are only

people, we've got to take the world that's given--because there isn't

any other.' 'Yes there is,' he said. 'There's somewhere where we can be

free--somewhere where one needn't wear much clothes--none even--where

one meets a few people who have gone through enough, and can take

things for granted--where you be yourself, without bothering. There is

somewhere--there are one or two people--' 'But where--?' she sighed.