But let them have it as an example of the eternal triangle,
the trinity of hate. It would be simpler for them.
Birkin went away, his manner cold and abstracted. But she knew he would
do things for her, nevertheless, he would see her through. She smiled
slightly to herself, with contempt. Let him do the work, since he was
so extremely GOOD at looking after other people.
Birkin went again to Gerald. He had loved him. And yet he felt chiefly
disgust at the inert body lying there. It was so inert, so coldly dead,
a carcase, Birkin's bowels seemed to turn to ice. He had to stand and
look at the frozen dead body that had been Gerald.
It was the frozen carcase of a dead male. Birkin remembered a rabbit
which he had once found frozen like a board on the snow. It had been
rigid like a dried board when he picked it up. And now this was Gerald,
stiff as a board, curled up as if for sleep, yet with the horrible
hardness somehow evident. It filled him with horror. The room must be
made warm, the body must be thawed.
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