'But rather hard. You try it.' She
invited the young man to a seat. But he turned uncouthly, awkwardly
aside, glancing up at her with quick bright eyes, oddly suggestive,
like a quick, live rat.
'Don't spoil him,' said the young woman. 'He's not used to arm-chairs,
'e isn't.
The young man turned away, and said, with averted grin:
'Only warnts legs on 'is.'
The four parted. The young woman thanked them.
'Thank you for the chair--it'll last till it gives way.'
'Keep it for an ornyment,' said the young man.
'Good afternoon--Good afternoon,' said Ursula and Birkin.
'Goo'-luck to you,' said the young man, glancing and avoiding Birkin's
eyes, as he turned aside his head.
The two couples went asunder, Ursula clinging to Birkin's arm. When
they had gone some distance, she glanced back and saw the young man
going beside the full, easy young woman. His trousers sank over his
heels, he moved with a sort of slinking evasion, more crushed with odd
self-consciousness now he had the slim old arm-chair to carry, his arm
over the back, the four fine, square tapering legs swaying perilously
near the granite setts of the pavement.
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