'
'That's it,' said Gerald. 'At least as far as the business is
concerned. I couldn't say about the soul, I'am sure.'
'No.'
'Surely you don't expect me to?' laughed Gerald.
'No. How are the rest of your affairs progressing, apart from the
business?'
'The rest of my affairs? What are those? I couldn't say; I don't know
what you refer to.'
'Yes, you do,' said Birkin. 'Are you gloomy or cheerful? And what about
Gudrun Brangwen?'
'What about her?' A confused look came over Gerald. 'Well,' he added,
'I don't know. I can only tell you she gave me a hit over the face last
time I saw her.'
'A hit over the face! What for?'
'That I couldn't tell you, either.'
'Really! But when?'
'The night of the party--when Diana was drowned. She was driving the
cattle up the hill, and I went after her--you remember.'
'Yes, I remember. But what made her do that? You didn't definitely ask
her for it, I suppose?'
'I? No, not that I know of. I merely said to her, that it was dangerous
to drive those Highland bullocks--as it IS.
Pages:
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420