Women in Love

'It is of no importance,' came the strong, clanging voice of Gudrun.

She seemed to touch him. But he reached further, the boat swayed

violently. Hermione, however, remained unperturbed. He grasped the

book, under the water, and brought it up, dripping.

'I'm so dreadfully sorry--dreadfully sorry,' repeated Hermione. 'I'm

afraid it was all my fault.' 'It's of no importance--really, I assure you--it doesn't matter in the

least,' said Gudrun loudly, with emphasis, her face flushed scarlet.

And she held out her hand impatiently for the wet book, to have done

with the scene. Gerald gave it to her. He was not quite himself.

'I'm so dreadfully sorry,' repeated Hermione, till both Gerald and

Gudrun were exasperated. 'Is there nothing that can be done?' 'In what way?' asked Gudrun, with cool irony.

'Can't we save the drawings?' There was a moment's pause, wherein Gudrun made evident all her

refutation of Hermione's persistence.

'I assure you,' said Gudrun, with cutting distinctness, 'the drawings

are quite as good as ever they were, for my purpose. I want them only

for reference.' 'But can't I give you a new book? I wish you'd let me do that. I feel

so truly sorry. I feel it was all my fault.' 'As far as I saw,' said Gudrun, 'it wasn't your fault at all. If there

was any FAULT, it was Mr Crich's. But the whole thing is ENTIRELY

trivial, and it really is ridiculous to take any notice of it.' Gerald watched Gudrun closely, whilst she repulsed Hermione. There was

a body of cold power in her. He watched her with an insight that

amounted to clairvoyance. He saw her a dangerous, hostile spirit, that

could stand undiminished and unabated. It was so finished, and of such

perfect gesture, moreover.

'I'm awfully glad if it doesn't matter,' he said; 'if there's no real

harm done.' She looked back at him, with her fine blue eyes, and signalled full

into his spirit, as she said, her voice ringing with intimacy almost

caressive now it was addressed to him: 'Of course, it doesn't matter in the LEAST.' The bond was established between them, in that look, in her tone. In

her tone, she made the understanding clear--they were of the same kind,

he and she, a sort of diabolic freemasonry subsisted between them.

Henceforward, she knew, she had her power over him. Wherever they met,

they would be secretly associated. And he would be helpless in the

association with her. Her soul exulted.

'Good-bye! I'm so glad you forgive me. Gooood-bye!' Hermione sang her farewell, and waved her hand. Gerald automatically

took the oar and pushed off. But he was looking all the time, with a

glimmering, subtly-smiling admiration in his eyes, at Gudrun, who stood

on the shoal shaking the wet book in her hand. She turned away and

ignored the receding boat. But Gerald looked back as he rowed,

beholding her, forgetting what he was doing.