It would never do for me.'
Birkin watched him with steady emotionless eyes. The radical antagnoism
in the two men was rousing.
'Yes, but are my ways and ideas new-fangled?' asked Birkin.
'Are they?' Brangwen caught himself up. 'I'm not speaking of you in
particular,' he said. 'What I mean is that my children have been
brought up to think and do according to the religion I was brought up
in myself, and I don't want to see them going away from THAT.'
There was a dangerous pause.
'And beyond that--?' asked Birkin.
The father hesitated, he was in a nasty position.
'Eh? What do you mean? All I want to say is that my daughter'--he
tailed off into silence, overcome by futility. He knew that in some way
he was off the track.
'Of course,' said Birkin, 'I don't want to hurt anybody or influence
anybody. Ursula does exactly as she pleases.'
There was a complete silence, because of the utter failure in mutual
understanding. Birkin felt bored. Her father was not a coherent human
being, he was a roomful of old echoes.
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