Women in Love

'But I'm not an idiot! Oh, how awful! Do come, everybody, it will be so

splendid. Pussum, you are coming. What? Oh but you MUST come, yes, you

must. What? Oh, my dear girl, don't make a fuss now, I feel

perfectly--Oh, it's so ghastly--Ho!--er! Oh!' 'You know you can't drink,' she said to him, coldly.

'I tell you it isn't drink--it's your disgusting behaviour, Pussum,

it's nothing else. Oh, how awful! Libidnikov, do let us go.' 'He's only drunk one glass--only one glass,' came the rapid, hushed

voice of the young Russian.

They all moved off to the door. The girl kept near to Gerald, and

seemed to be at one in her motion with him. He was aware of this, and

filled with demon-satisfaction that his motion held good for two. He

held her in the hollow of his will, and she was soft, secret, invisible

in her stirring there.

They crowded five of them into the taxi-cab. Halliday lurched in first,

and dropped into his seat against the other window. Then the Pussum

took her place, and Gerald sat next to her. They heard the young

Russian giving orders to the driver, then they were all seated in the

dark, crowded close together, Halliday groaning and leaning out of the

window. They felt the swift, muffled motion of the car.

The Pussum sat near to Gerald, and she seemed to become soft, subtly to

infuse herself into his bones, as if she were passing into him in a

black, electric flow. Her being suffused into his veins like a magnetic

darkness, and concentrated at the base of his spine like a fearful

source of power. Meanwhile her voice sounded out reedy and nonchalant,

as she talked indifferently with Birkin and with Maxim. Between her and

Gerald was this silence and this black, electric comprehension in the

darkness. Then she found his hand, and grasped it in her own firm,

small clasp. It was so utterly dark, and yet such a naked statement,

that rapid vibrations ran through his blood and over his brain, he was

no longer responsible. Still her voice rang on like a bell, tinged with

a tone of mockery. And as she swung her head, her fine mane of hair

just swept his face, and all his nerves were on fire, as with a subtle

friction of electricity. But the great centre of his force held steady,

a magnificent pride to him, at the base of his spine.

They arrived at a large block of buildings, went up in a lift, and

presently a door was being opened for them by a Hindu. Gerald looked in

surprise, wondering if he were a gentleman, one of the Hindus down from

Oxford, perhaps. But no, he was the man-servant.