Then he said:
'Waste it? What else is there to do with it?'
'But leave this, won't you? You force yourself into horrors, and put a
mill-stone of beastly memories round your neck. Come away now.'
'A mill-stone of beastly memories!' Gerald repeated. Then he put his
hand again affectionately on Birkin's shoulder. 'God, you've got such a
telling way of putting things, Rupert, you have.'
Birkin's heart sank. He was irritated and weary of having a telling way
of putting things.
'Won't you leave it? Come over to my place'--he urged as one urges a
drunken man.
'No,' said Gerald coaxingly, his arm across the other man's shoulder.
'Thanks very much, Rupert--I shall be glad to come tomorrow, if that'll
do. You understand, don't you? I want to see this job through. But I'll
come tomorrow, right enough. Oh, I'd rather come and have a chat with
you than--than do anything else, I verily believe. Yes, I would. You
mean a lot to me, Rupert, more than you know.'
'What do I mean, more than I know?' asked Birkin irritably.
Pages:
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392