'I don't mean anything, why should I?' said Birkin. 'I'm an Englishman,
and I've paid the price of it. I can't talk about England--I can only
speak for myself.'
'Yes,' said Gudrun slowly, 'you love England immensely, IMMENSELY,
Rupert.'
'And leave her,' he replied.
'No, not for good. You'll come back,' said Gerald, nodding sagely.
'They say the lice crawl off a dying body,' said Birkin, with a glare
of bitterness. 'So I leave England.'
'Ah, but you'll come back,' said Gudrun, with a sardonic smile.
'Tant pis pour moi,' he replied.
'Isn't he angry with his mother country!' laughed Gerald, amused.
'Ah, a patriot!' said Gudrun, with something like a sneer.
Birkin refused to answer any more.
Gudrun watched him still for a few seconds. Then she turned away. It
was finished, her spell of divination in him. She felt already purely
cynical. She looked at Gerald. He was wonderful like a piece of radium
to her. She felt she could consume herself and know ALL, by means of
this fatal, living metal.
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