There was a queer, indefinable
hostility between the two men, lately. Birkin was on the whole dim and
indifferent, drifting along in a dim, easy flow, unnoticing and
patient, since he came abroad, whilst Gerald on the other hand, was
intense and gripped into white light, agonistes. The two men revoked
one another.
Gerald and Gudrun were very kind to the two who were departing,
solicitous for their welfare as if they were two children. Gudrun came
to Ursula's bedroom with three pairs of the coloured stockings for
which she was notorious, and she threw them on the bed. But these were
thick silk stockings, vermilion, cornflower blue, and grey, bought in
Paris. The grey ones were knitted, seamless and heavy. Ursula was in
raptures. She knew Gudrun must be feeling VERY loving, to give away
such treasures.
'I can't take them from you, Prune,' she cried. 'I can't possibly
deprive you of them--the jewels.'
'AREN'T they jewels!' cried Gudrun, eyeing her gifts with an envious
eye. 'AREN'T they real lambs!'
'Yes, you MUST keep them,' said Ursula.
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