She smiled to herself at her fancy. And what
would she do with herself, when she had destroyed herself? For if
spirit, if integral being is destructible, Matter is indestructible.
He was looking bright and abstracted, puzzled, for the moment. She
stretched out her beautiful arm, with its fluff of green tulle, and
touched his chin with her subtle, artist's fingers.
'What are they then?' she asked, with a strange, knowing smile.
'What?' he replied, his eyes suddenly dilating with wonder.
'Your thoughts.'
Gerald looked like a man coming awake.
'I think I had none,' he said.
'Really!' she said, with grave laughter in her voice.
And to Birkin it was as if she killed Gerald, with that touch.
'Ah but,' cried Gudrun, 'let us drink to Britannia--let us drink to
Britannia.'
It seemed there was wild despair in her voice. Gerald laughed, and
filled the glasses.
'I think Rupert means,' he said, 'that NATIONALLY all Englishmen must
die, so that they can exist individually and--'
'Super-nationally--' put in Gudrun, with a slight ironic grimace,
raising her glass.
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