'Doesn't it sound grey, too,' said Gudrun grimly.
They were interrupted by the sound of the car. There was Birkin. Ursula
was surprised that she felt so lit up, that she became suddenly so free
from the problems of grey homes in the west.
They heard his heels click on the hall pavement below.
'Hello!' he called, his voice echoing alive through the house. Ursula
smiled to herself. HE was frightened of the place too.
'Hello! Here we are,' she called downstairs. And they heard him quickly
running up.
'This is a ghostly situation,' he said.
'These houses don't have ghosts--they've never had any personality, and
only a place with personality can have a ghost,' said Gudrun.
'I suppose so. Are you both weeping over the past?'
'We are,' said Gudrun, grimly.
Ursula laughed.
'Not weeping that it's gone, but weeping that it ever WAS,' she said.
'Oh,' he replied, relieved.
He sat down for a moment. There was something in his presence, Ursula
thought, lambent and alive.
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