s own heart beating. But that seemed impossible, the
noise was outside. No, it was inside himself, it was his own heart. And
the beating was painful, so strained, surcharged. He wondered if Gerald
heard it. He did not know whether he were standing or lying or falling.

When he realised that he had fallen prostrate upon Gerald's body he
wondered, he was surprised. But he sat up, steadying himself with his
hand and waiting for his heart to become stiller and less painful. It
hurt very much, and took away his consciousness.

Gerald however was still less conscious than Birkin. They waited dimly,
in a sort of not-being, for many uncounted, unknown minutes.

'Of course--' panted Gerald, 'I didn't have to be rough--with you--I
had to keep back--my force--'

Birkin heard the sound as if his own spirit stood behind him, outside
him, and listened to it. His body was in a trance of exhaustion, his
spirit heard thinly. His body could not answer. Only he knew his heart
was getting quieter. He was divided entirely between his spirit, which
stood outside, and knew, and his body, that was a plunging, unconscious
stroke of blood.

'I could have thrown you--using violence--' panted Gerald. 'But you
beat me right enough.'

'Yes,' said Birkin, hardening his throat and producing the words in the
tension there, 'you're much stronger than I--you could beat
me--easily.'

Then he relaxed again to the terrible plunging of his heart and his
blood.

'It surprised me,' panted Gerald, 'what strength you've got. Almost
supernatural.'

'For a moment,' said Birkin.

He still heard as if it were his own disembodied spirit hearing,
standing at some distance behind him. It drew nearer however, his
spirit. And the violent striking of blood in his chest was sinking
quieter, allowing his mind to come back. He realised that he was
leaning with all his weight on the soft body of the other man. It
startled him, because he thought he had withdrawn. He recovered
himself, and sat up. But he was still vague and unestablished. He put
out his hand to steady himself. It touched the hand of Gerald, that was
lying out on the floor. And Gerald's hand closed warm and sudden over
Birkin's, they remained exhausted and breathless, the one hand clasped
closely over the other. It was Birkin whose hand, in swift response,
had closed in a strong, warm clasp over the hand of the other. Gerald's
clasp had been sudden and momentaneous.

The normal consciousness howe