Women in Love

'Julius and I will share one room,' said the Russian in his discreet,

precise voice. Halliday and he were friends since Eton.

'It's very simple,' said Gerald, rising and pressing back his arms,

stretching himself. Then he went again to look at one of the pictures.

Every one of his limbs was turgid with electric force, and his back was

tense like a tiger's, with slumbering fire. He was very proud.

The Pussum rose. She gave a black look at Halliday, black and deadly,

which brought the rather foolishly pleased smile to that young man's

face. Then she went out of the room, with a cold good-night to them all

generally.

There was a brief interval, they heard a door close, then Maxim said,

in his refined voice: 'That's all right.' He looked significantly at Gerald, and said again, with a silent nod: 'That's all right--you're all right.' Gerald looked at the smooth, ruddy, comely face, and at the strange,

significant eyes, and it seemed as if the voice of the young Russian,

so small and perfect, sounded in the blood rather than in the air.

'I'M all right then,' said Gerald.

'Yes! Yes! You're all right,' said the Russian.

Halliday continued to smile, and to say nothing.

Suddenly the Pussum appeared again in the door, her small, childish

face looking sullen and vindictive.

'I know you want to catch me out,' came her cold, rather resonant

voice. 'But I don't care, I don't care how much you catch me out.' She turned and was gone again. She had been wearing a loose

dressing-gown of purple silk, tied round her waist. She looked so small

and childish and vulnerable, almost pitiful. And yet the black looks of

her eyes made Gerald feel drowned in some potent darkness that almost

frightened him.

The men lit another cigarette and talked casually.