Women in Love

'No,' he said, 'we aren't. We're too full of ourselves.' 'Surely it isn't a matter of conceit,' she cried.

'That and nothing else.' She was frankly puzzled.

'Don't you think that people are most conceited of all about their

sensual powers?' she asked.

'That's why they aren't sensual--only sensuous--which is another

matter. They're ALWAYS aware of themselves--and they're so conceited,

that rather than release themselves, and live in another world, from

another centre, they'd--' 'You want your tea, don't you,' said Hermione, turning to Ursula with a

gracious kindliness. 'You've worked all day--' Birkin stopped short. A spasm of anger and chagrin went over Ursula.

His face set. And he bade good-bye, as if he had ceased to notice her.

They were gone. Ursula stood looking at the door for some moments. Then

she put out the lights. And having done so, she sat down again in her

chair, absorbed and lost. And then she began to cry, bitterly, bitterly

weeping: but whether for misery or joy, she never knew.