He is really a priest.'
'Exactly! He can't hear what anybody else has to say--he simply cannot
hear. His own voice is so loud.'
'Yes. He cries you down.'
'He cries you down,' repeated Gudrun. 'And by mere force of violence.
And of course it is hopeless. Nobody is convinced by violence. It makes
talking to him impossible--and living with him I should think would be
more than impossible.'
'You don't think one could live with him' asked Ursula.
'I think it would be too wearing, too exhausting. One would be shouted
down every time, and rushed into his way without any choice. He would
want to control you entirely. He cannot allow that there is any other
mind than his own. And then the real clumsiness of his mind is its lack
of self-criticism. No, I think it would be perfectly intolerable.'
'Yes,' assented Ursula vaguely. She only half agreed with Gudrun. 'The
nuisance is,' she said, 'that one would find almost any man intolerable
after a fortnight.'
'It's perfectly dreadful,' said Gudrun.
Pages:
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551