But Birkin turned his face aside.
'All right then, go to sleep,' said Gerald, and he laid his hand
affectionately on the other man's shoulder, and went away.
In the morning when Gerald awoke and heard Birkin move, he called out:
'I still think I ought to give the Pussum ten pounds.'
'Oh God!' said Birkin, 'don't be so matter-of-fact. Close the account
in your own soul, if you like. It is there you can't close it.'
'How do you know I can't?'
'Knowing you.'
Gerald meditated for some moments.
'It seems to me the right thing to do, you know, with the Pussums, is
to pay them.'
'And the right thing for mistresses: keep them. And the right thing for
wives: live under the same roof with them. Integer vitae scelerisque
purus--' said Birkin.
'There's no need to be nasty about it,' said Gerald.
'It bores me. I'm not interested in your peccadilloes.'
'And I don't care whether you are or not--I am.'
The morning was again sunny. The maid had been in and brought the
water, and had drawn the curtains.
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