ickly round. There was irritation in his eyes also.

'Why?' he replied. 'What do you think of it, Gudrun?'

'Oh,' she cried, determined to fling her stone also into the pool,
since they had begun, 'I don't think she wants an engagement.
Naturally, she's a bird that prefers the bush.' Gudrun's voice was
clear and gong-like. It reminded Rupert of her father's, so strong and
vibrant.

'And I,' said Birkin, his face playful but yet determined, 'I want a
binding contract, and am not keen on love, particularly free love.'

They were both amused. WHY this public avowal? Gerald seemed suspended
a moment, in amusement.

'Love isn't good enough for you?' he called.

'No!' shouted Birkin.

'Ha, well that's being over-refined,' said Gerald, and the car ran
through the mud.

'What's the matter, really?' said Gerald, turning to Gudrun.

This was an assumption of a sort of intimacy that irritated Gudrun
almost like an affront. It seemed to her that Gerald was deliberately
insulting her, and infringing on the decent privacy of them all.

'What is it?' she said, in her high, repellent voice. 'Don't ask me!--I
know nothing about ULTIMATE marriage, I assure you: or even
penultimate.'

'Only the ordinary unwarrantable brand!' replied Gerald. 'Just so--same
here. I am no expert on marriage, and degrees of ultimateness. It seems
to be a bee that buzzes loudly in Rupert's bonnet.'

'Exactly! But that is his trouble, exactly! Instead of wanting a woman
for herself, he wants his IDEAS fulfilled. Which, when it comes to
actual practice, is not good enough.'

'Oh no. Best go slap for what's womanly in woman, like a bull at a
gate.' Then he seemed to glimmer in himself. 'You think love is the
ticket, do you?' he asked.

'Certainly, while it lasts--you only can't insist on permanency,' came
Gudrun's voice, strident above the noise.

'Marriage or no marriage, ultimate or penultimate or just so-so?--take
the love as you find it.'

'As you please, or as you don't please,' she echoed. 'Marriage is a
social arrangement, I take it, and has nothing to do with the question
of love.'

His eyes were flickering on her all the time. She felt as is he were
kissing her freely and malevolently. It made the colour burn in her
cheeks, but her heart was quite firm and unfailing.

'You think Rupert is off his head a bit?' Gerald asked.

Her eyes flashed with acknowledgment.

'As regards a woman, yes,' she said, 'I do. There IS such a thing a