Women in Love

'You are not married at all, are you?' he asked.

She looked full at him.

'Not in the least,' she replied, in her measured way. Loerke laughed,

wrinkling up his face oddly. There was a thin wisp of his hair straying

on his forehead, she noticed that his skin was of a clear brown colour,

his hands, his wrists. And his hands seemed closely prehensile. He

seemed like topaz, so strangely brownish and pellucid.

'Good,' he said.

Still it needed some courage for him to go on.

'Was Mrs Birkin your sister?' he asked.

'Yes.' 'And was SHE married?' 'She was married.' 'Have you parents, then?' 'Yes,' said Gudrun, 'we have parents.' And she told him, briefly, laconically, her position. He watched her

closely, curiously all the while.

'So!' he exclaimed, with some surprise. 'And the Herr Crich, is he

rich?' 'Yes, he is rich, a coal owner.' 'How long has your friendship with him lasted?' 'Some months.' There was a pause.

'Yes, I am surprised,' he said at length. 'The English, I thought they

were so--cold. And what do you think to do when you leave here?' 'What do I think to do?' she repeated.

'Yes. You cannot go back to the teaching. No--' he shrugged his

shoulders--'that is impossible. Leave that to the CANAILLE who can do

nothing else. You, for your part--you know, you are a remarkable woman,

eine seltsame Frau. Why deny it--why make any question of it? You are

an extraordinary woman, why should you follow the ordinary course, the

ordinary life?' Gudrun sat looking at her hands, flushed. She was pleased that he said,

so simply, that she was a remarkable woman. He would not say that to

flatter her--he was far too self-opinionated and objective by nature.

He said it as he would say a piece of sculpture was remarkable, because

he knew it was so.

And it gratified her to hear it from him. Other people had such a

passion to make everything of one degree, of one pattern. In England it

was chic to be perfectly ordinary. And it was a relief to her to be

acknowledged extraordinary. Then she need not fret about the common

standards.

'You see,' she said, 'I have no money whatsoever.' 'Ach, money!' he cried, lifting his shoulders. 'When one is grown up,

money is lying about at one's service. It is only when one is young

that it is rare. Take no thought for money--that always lies to hand.' 'Does it?' she said, laughing.