Halliday hung
motionless, an almost imbecile smile flickering palely on his face. The
girl only stared at him with a black look in which flared an
unfathomable hell of knowledge, and a certain impotence. She was
limited by him.
'Why have you come back?' repeated Halliday, in the same high,
hysterical voice. 'I told you not to come back.'
The girl did not answer, only stared in the same viscous, heavy
fashion, straight at him, as he stood recoiled, as if for safety,
against the next table.
'You know you wanted her to come back--come and sit down,' said Birkin
to him.
'No I didn't want her to come back, and I told her not to come back.
What have you come for, Pussum?'
'For nothing from YOU,' she said in a heavy voice of resentment.
'Then why have you come back at ALL?' cried Halliday, his voice rising
to a kind of squeal.
'She comes as she likes,' said Birkin. 'Are you going to sit down, or
are you not?'
'No, I won't sit down with Pussum,' cried Halliday.
'I won't hurt you, you needn't be afraid,' she said to him, very
curtly, and yet with a sort of protectiveness towards him, in her
voice.
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