'We will swear to each other, one day, shall we?' pleaded Birkin. 'We
will swear to stand by each other--be true to each other--ultimately--
infallibly--given to each other, organically--without possibility of
taking back.'
Birkin sought hard to express himself. But Gerald hardly listened. His
face shone with a certain luminous pleasure. He was pleased. But he
kept his reserve. He held himself back.
'Shall we swear to each other, one day?' said Birkin, putting out his
hand towards Gerald.
Gerald just touched the extended fine, living hand, as if withheld and
afraid.
'We'll leave it till I understand it better,' he said, in a voice of
excuse.
Birkin watched him. A little sharp disappointment, perhaps a touch of
contempt came into his heart.
'Yes,' he said. 'You must tell me what you think, later. You know what
I mean? Not sloppy emotionalism. An impersonal union that leaves one
free.'
They lapsed both into silence. Birkin was looking at Gerald all the
time. He seemed now to see, not the physical, animal man, which he
usually saw in Gerald, and which usually he liked so much, but the man
himself, complete, and as if fated, doomed, limited.
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