She turned with a pleasant intimacy to Ursula.
'You are sure you will come to Breadalby?' she said, urging.
'Yes, I should like to very much,' replied Ursula.
Hermione looked down at her, gratified, reflecting, and strangely
absent, as if possessed, as if not quite there.
'I'm so glad,' she said, pulling herself together. 'Some time in about
a fortnight. Yes? I will write to you here, at the school, shall I?
Yes. And you'll be sure to come? Yes. I shall be so glad. Good-bye!
Good-bye!'
Hermione held out her hand and looked into the eyes of the other woman.
She knew Ursula as an immediate rival, and the knowledge strangely
exhilarated her. Also she was taking leave. It always gave her a sense
of strength, advantage, to be departing and leaving the other behind.
Moreover she was taking the man with her, if only in hate.
Birkin stood aside, fixed and unreal. But now, when it was his turn to
bid good-bye, he began to speak again.
'There's the whole difference in the world,' he said, 'between the
actual sensual being, and the vicious mental-deliberate profligacy our
lot goes in for.
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