' And he watched the other man
with strange eyes, that Birkin could not understand. 'I feel,' Gerald
continued, 'that there is always an element of uncertainty about
you--perhaps you are uncertain about yourself. But I'm never sure of
you. You can go away and change as easily as if you had no soul.'
He looked at Birkin with penetrating eyes. Birkin was amazed. He
thought he had all the soul in the world. He stared in amazement. And
Gerald, watching, saw the amazing attractive goodliness of his eyes, a
young, spontaneous goodness that attracted the other man infinitely,
yet filled him with bitter chagrin, because he mistrusted it so much.
He knew Birkin could do without him--could forget, and not suffer. This
was always present in Gerald's consciousness, filling him with bitter
unbelief: this consciousness of the young, animal-like spontaneity of
detachment. It seemed almost like hypocrisy and lying, sometimes, oh,
often, on Birkin's part, to talk so deeply and importantly.
Quite other things were going through Birkin's mind.
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