Women in Love

She looked full into his face, and her dark, inchoate eyes had now a

furtive look, and a look of a knowledge of evil, dark and indomitable.

A flame ran secretly to his heart.

'Yes,' she said. 'Isn't it beastly?' 'Don't you want it?' he asked.

'I don't,' she replied emphatically.

'But--' he said, 'how long have you known?' 'Ten weeks,' she said.

All the time she kept her dark, inchoate eyes full upon him. He

remained silent, thinking. Then, switching off and becoming cold, he

asked, in a voice full of considerate kindness: 'Is there anything we can eat here? Is there anything you would like?' 'Yes,' she said, 'I should adore some oysters.' 'All right,' he said. 'We'll have oysters.' And he beckoned to the

waiter.

Halliday took no notice, until the little plate was set before her.

Then suddenly he cried: 'Pussum, you can't eat oysters when you're drinking brandy.' 'What has it go to do with you?' she asked.

'Nothing, nothing,' he cried. 'But you can't eat oysters when you're

drinking brandy.' 'I'm not drinking brandy,' she replied, and she sprinkled the last

drops of her liqueur over his face. He gave an odd squeal. She sat

looking at him, as if indifferent.

'Pussum, why do you do that?' he cried in panic. He gave Gerald the

impression that he was terrified of her, and that he loved his terror.

He seemed to relish his own horror and hatred of her, turn it over and

extract every flavour from it, in real panic. Gerald thought him a

strange fool, and yet piquant.

'But Pussum,' said another man, in a very small, quick Eton voice, 'you

promised not to hurt him.' 'I haven't hurt him,' she answered.

'What will you drink?' the young man asked. He was dark, and

smooth-skinned, and full of a stealthy vigour.

'I don't like porter, Maxim,' she replied.

'You must ask for champagne,' came the whispering, gentlemanly voice of

the other.

Gerald suddenly realised that this was a hint to him.

'Shall we have champagne?' he asked, laughing.

'Yes please, dwy,' she lisped childishly.

Gerald watched her eating the oysters. She was delicate and finicking

in her eating, her fingers were fine and seemed very sensitive in the

tips, so she put her food apart with fine, small motions, she ate

carefully, delicately. It pleased him very much to see her, and it

irritated Birkin. They were all drinking champagne. Maxim, the prim

young Russian with the smooth, warm-coloured face and black, oiled hair

was the only one who seemed to be perfectly calm and sober. Birkin was

white and abstract, unnatural, Gerald was smiling with a constant

bright, amused, cold light in his eyes, leaning a little protectively

towards the Pussum, who was very handsome, and soft, unfolded like some

red lotus in dreadful flowering nakedness, vainglorious now, flushed

with wine and with the excitement of men. Halliday looked foolish. One

glass of wine was enough to make him drunk and giggling. Yet there was

always a pleasant, warm naivete about him, that made him attractive.