Women in Love

as something small and curled up and defenceless about her, that roused an unsatisfied flame of passion in the young man's bl

to Libidnikov, he went to the door and glanced in. He had on a

ng men by the fire, stark naked. H

e hall, striding a strange, white figure between the unliving furniture. He came back wit

feel the fire on

r pleasant,'

e in a climate where one could do witho

there weren't so many th

advantage,' m

was like a Christ in a Pieta. The animal was not there at all, only the heavy, broken beauty. And Gerald realised how Halliday's eyes were beautiful too, so blue and warm and confused, broken also in their

've been in hot countries whe

exclaimed Hal

a -- Amazon,'

to do -- to live from day to day without ever putting on any sort o

`I can't see that it m

'm sure life would be entirely another thing -

ked Gerald. `

the things I touched, instead of having only to look at them. I'm sure life is all wrong because it has become m

e, that is true,'

mbs like smooth plantstems. He was so healthy and well-made, why did he make one ashamed, why did one feel repelled? Why should Gerald eve

e pyjamas and wet hair, and a towel over his arm

ant it,' he said generally, and was

y, Ru

e figure appeared again

hat figure there? I wan

negro woman in labour. Her nude, protuberant body crouched in a strange, cl

rt,' sai

t's very beautiful

l and heavily, brokenly beautiful, Birkin very white and indefinite, not to be assigned, as he looked closely at the c

, abstracted in utter physical stress. It was a terrible face, void, peaked, abstracted almost into me

Gerald asked, s

rkin. `It contains the whole truth of

call it high ar

f development in a straight line, behind that carving;

ed, in opposition. He hate

ousness, really ultimate physical consciousness, mindless,

nted to keep certain illusion

gs, Rupert,' he said, `t

't everything,' Birki

tional at home, that when he was really away, and on the loose, as now, he enjoyed nothing so

only see the black, bottomless pools of her eyes. Perhaps she suffered. The sensation of her i

ke now,' he

it?' came he

lies in her further and further violation, made his nerves quiver with acutely desirable sensation. After all, his was the only will, she was the passive

Birkin was gaunt and sick, and looked a failure in his attempt to be a properly dressed man, like Gerald and Maxim. Halliday wore tweeds and a green flannel shirt, and a ra

o her when anybody spoke to her. Her face was like a small, fine mask, sinister too, masked with unwilling suffering. It was almost midday. Gerald rose and went away to his business,

tably with tea, bending in a slow, strange, leopard-like fashion to put the tray softly on the table. His face was immutable, aristocratic-looking, tinged slightly with grey under the skin; he was young and

irritation, Halliday was turning in an insane hatred against Gerald, the Pussum was becoming hard and cold, like a flint knife, a

a nasty and insane scene with Halliday on the fourth evening. Halliday turned with absurd animosity upon Gerald, in the cafe. There was a row. Gerald was on the point of knocking-in Halliday's face; when he was filled w

at the ends of his short clipped moustache. He knew the Pussum was merely glad to be rid of him. She had got her Halliday whom she wanted. She wanted him completely in her power. Then she would marry him. She wanted to marry him. She had set her will on marrying Halliday. She never wanted to hear of Gerald again; unle

s address, so that she could appeal to him in time of distress. She knew he want