There was a window opposite the door, but
low down, because the roof sloped. Under the slope of the ceiling were
the table with wash-hand bowl and jug, and across, another table with
mirror. On either side the door were two beds piled high with an
enormous blue-checked overbolster, enormous.
This was all--no cupboard, none of the amenities of life. Here they
were shut up together in this cell of golden-coloured wood, with two
blue checked beds. They looked at each other and laughed, frightened by
this naked nearness of isolation.
A man knocked and came in with the luggage. He was a sturdy fellow with
flattish cheek-bones, rather pale, and with coarse fair moustache.
Gudrun watched him put down the bags, in silence, then tramp heavily
out.
'It isn't too rough, is it?' Gerald asked.
The bedroom was not very warm, and she shivered slightly.
'It is wonderful,' she equivocated. 'Look at the colour of this
panelling--it's wonderful, like being inside a nut.'
He was standing watching her, feeling his short-cut moustache, leaning
back slightly and watching her with his keen, undaunted eyes, dominated
by the constant passion, that was like a doom upon him.
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