He's a special case.
But with the ordinary man, who has his life fixed in one place,
marriage is just impossible. There may be, and there ARE, thousands of
women who want it, and could conceive of nothing else. But the very
thought of it sends me MAD. One must be free, above all, one must be
free. One may forfeit everything else, but one must be free--one must
not become 7, Pinchbeck Street--or Somerset Drive--or Shortlands. No
man will be sufficient to make that good--no man! To marry, one must
have a free lance, or nothing, a comrade-in-arms, a Glckstritter. A man
with a position in the social world--well, it is just impossible,
impossible!'
'What a lovely word--a Glckstritter!' said Ursula. 'So much nicer than
a soldier of fortune.'
'Yes, isn't it?' said Gudrun. 'I'd tilt the world with a Glcksritter.
But a home, an establishment! Ursula, what would it mean?--think!'
'I know,' said Ursula. 'We've had one home--that's enough for me.'
'Quite enough,' said Gudrun.
'The little grey home in the west,' quoted Ursula ironically.
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