'
The stray cat vanished like a swift, invisible shadow. The Mino glanced
at Ursula, then looked from her disdainfully to his master.
'Are you a bully, Mino?' Birkin asked.
The young slim cat looked at him, and slowly narrowed its eyes. Then it
glanced away at the landscape, looking into the distance as if
completely oblivious of the two human beings.
'Mino,' said Ursula, 'I don't like you. You are a bully like all
males.'
'No,' said Birkin, 'he is justified. He is not a bully. He is only
insisting to the poor stray that she shall acknowledge him as a sort of
fate, her own fate: because you can see she is fluffy and promiscuous
as the wind. I am with him entirely. He wants superfine stability.'
'Yes, I know!' cried Ursula. 'He wants his own way--I know what your
fine words work down to--bossiness, I call it, bossiness.'
The young cat again glanced at Birkin in disdain of the noisy woman.
'I quite agree with you, Miciotto,' said Birkin to the cat. 'Keep your
male dignity, and your higher understanding.
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