For all their shockingness, all on
one note.'
He looked at Gerald, and saw how his blue eyes were lit up with a
little flame of curious desire. He saw too how good-looking he was.
Gerald was attractive, his blood seemed fluid and electric. His blue
eyes burned with a keen, yet cold light, there was a certain beauty, a
beautiful passivity in all his body, his moulding.
'We might see something of each other--I am in London for two or three
days,' said Gerald.
'Yes,' said Birkin, 'I don't want to go to the theatre, or the music
hall--you'd better come round to the flat, and see what you can make of
Halliday and his crowd.'
'Thanks--I should like to,' laughed Gerald. 'What are you doing
tonight?'
'I promised to meet Halliday at the Pompadour. It's a bad place, but
there is nowhere else.'
'Where is it?' asked Gerald.
'Piccadilly Circus.'
'Oh yes--well, shall I come round there?'
'By all means, it might amuse you.'
The evening was falling. They had passed Bedford. Birkin watched the
country, and was filled with a sort of hopelessness.
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