Women in Love

'I don't know,' murmured the other rapidly. 'I have never defined the

obscene. I think they are very good.' Gerald turned away. There were one or two new pictures in the room, in

the Futurist manner; there was a large piano. And these, with some

ordinary London lodging-house furniture of the better sort, completed

the whole.

The Pussum had taken off her hat and coat, and was seated on the sofa.

She was evidently quite at home in the house, but uncertain, suspended.

She did not quite know her position. Her alliance for the time being

was with Gerald, and she did not know how far this was admitted by any

of the men. She was considering how she should carry off the situation.

She was determined to have her experience. Now, at this eleventh hour,

she was not to be baulked. Her face was flushed as with battle, her eye

was brooding but inevitable.

The man came in with tea and a bottle of Kummel. He set the tray on a

little table before the couch.

'Pussum,' said Halliday, 'pour out the tea.' She did not move.

'Won't you do it?' Halliday repeated, in a state of nervous

apprehension.

'I've not come back here as it was before,' she said. 'I only came

because the others wanted me to, not for your sake.' 'My dear Pussum, you know you are your own mistress. I don't want you

to do anything but use the flat for your own convenience--you know it,

I've told you so many times.' She did not reply, but silently, reservedly reached for the tea-pot.

They all sat round and drank tea. Gerald could feel the electric

connection between him and her so strongly, as she sat there quiet and

withheld, that another set of conditions altogether had come to pass.

Her silence and her immutability perplexed him. HOW was he going to

come to her? And yet he felt it quite inevitable. He trusted completely

to the current that held them. His perplexity was only superficial, new

conditions reigned, the old were surpassed; here one did as one was

possessed to do, no matter what it was.

Birkin rose. It was nearly one o'clock.

'I'm going to bed,' he said. 'Gerald, I'll ring you up in the morning

at your place or you ring me up here.' 'Right,' said Gerald, and Birkin went out.

When he was well gone, Halliday said in a stimulated voice, to Gerald: 'I say, won't you stay here--oh do!' 'You can't put everybody up,' said Gerald.

'Oh but I can, perfectly--there are three more beds besides mine--do

stay, won't you. Everything is quite ready--there is always somebody

here--I always put people up--I love having the house crowded.' 'But there are only two rooms,' said the Pussum, in a cold, hostile

voice, 'now Rupert's here.' 'I know there are only two rooms,' said Halliday, in his odd, high way

of speaking. 'But what does that matter?' He was smiling rather foolishly, and he spoke eagerly, with an

insinuating determination.