Birkin went straight to bed. He was feeling happy, and sleepy. Since he
had danced he was happy. But Gerald would talk to him. Gerald, in
evening dress, sat on Birkin's bed when the other lay down, and must
talk.
'Who are those two Brangwens?' Gerald asked.
'They live in Beldover.' 'In Beldover! Who are they then?' 'Teachers in the Grammar School.' There was a pause.
'They are!' exclaimed Gerald at length. 'I thought I had seen them
before.' 'It disappoints you?' said Birkin.
'Disappoints me! No--but how is it Hermione has them here?' 'She knew Gudrun in London--that's the younger one, the one with the
darker hair--she's an artist--does sculpture and modelling.' 'She's not a teacher in the Grammar School, then--only the other?' 'Both--Gudrun art mistress, Ursula a class mistress.' 'And what's the father?' 'Handicraft instructor in the schools.' 'Really!' 'Class-barriers are breaking down!' Gerald was always uneasy under the slightly jeering tone of the other.
'That their father is handicraft instructor in a school! What does it
matter to me?' Birkin laughed. Gerald looked at his face, as it lay there laughing and
bitter and indifferent on the pillow, and he could not go away.
'I don't suppose you will see very much more of Gudrun, at least. She
is a restless bird, she'll be gone in a week or two,' said Birkin.
'Where will she go?' 'London, Paris, Rome--heaven knows. I always expect her to sheer off to
Damascus or San Francisco; she's a bird of paradise. God knows what
she's got to do with Beldover. It goes by contraries, like dreams.' Gerald pondered for a few moments.
'How do you know her so well?' he asked.
'I knew her in London,' he replied, 'in the Algernon Strange set.
She'll know about Pussum and Libidnikov and the rest--even if she
doesn't know them personally. She was never quite that set--more
conventional, in a way. I've known her for two years, I suppose.' 'And she makes money, apart from her teaching?' asked Gerald.
'Some--irregularly. She can sell her models. She has a certain
reclame.' 'How much for?' 'A guinea, ten guineas.' 'And are they good? What are they?' 'I think sometimes they are marvellously good. That is hers, those two
wagtails in Hermione's boudoir--you've seen them--they are carved in
wood and painted.' 'I thought it was savage carving again.' 'No, hers. That's what they are--animals and birds, sometimes odd small
people in everyday dress, really rather wonderful when they come off.
They have a sort of funniness that is quite unconscious and subtle.' 'She might be a well-known artist one day?' mused Gerald.