said. 'Not like getting divawced.'

'We're not married yet,' said Birkin.

'No, no more aren't we,' said the young woman loudly. 'But we shall be,
a Saturday.'

Again she looked at the young man with a determined, protective look,
at once overbearing and very gentle. He grinned sicklily, turning away
his head. She had got his manhood, but Lord, what did he care! He had a
strange furtive pride and slinking singleness.

'Good luck to you,' said Birkin.

'Same to you,' said the young woman. Then, rather tentatively: 'When's
yours coming off, then?'

Birkin looked round at Ursula.

'It's for the lady to say,' he replied. 'We go to the registrar the
moment she's ready.'

Ursula laughed, covered with confusion and bewilderment.

'No 'urry,' said the young man, grinning suggestive.

'Oh, don't break your neck to get there,' said the young woman. ''Slike
when you're dead--you're long time married.'

The young man turned aside as if this hit him.

'The longer the better, let us hope,' said Birkin.

'That's it, guvnor,' said the young man admiringly. 'Enjoy it while it
larsts--niver whip a dead donkey.'

'Only when he's shamming dead,' said the young woman, looking at her
young man with caressive tenderness of authority.

'Aw, there's a difference,' he said satirically.

'What about the chair?' said Birkin.

'Yes, all right,' said the woman.

They trailed off to the dealer, the handsome but abject young fellow
hanging a little aside.

'That's it,' said Birkin. 'Will you take it with you, or have the
address altered.'

'Oh, Fred can carry it. Make him do what he can for the dear old 'ome.'

'Mike use of'im,' said Fred, grimly humorous, as he took the chair from
the dealer. His movements were graceful, yet curiously abject,
slinking.

''Ere's mother's cosy chair,' he said. 'Warnts a cushion.' And he stood
it down on the market stones.

'Don't you think it's pretty?' laughed Ursula.

'Oh, I do,' said the young woman.

''Ave a sit in it, you'll wish you'd kept it,' said the young man.

Ursula promptly sat down in the middle of the market-place.

'Awfully comfortable,' she said. 'But rather hard. You try it.' She
invited the young man to a seat. But he turned uncouthly, awkwardly
aside, glancing up at her with quick bright eyes, oddly suggestive,
like a quick, live rat.

'Don't spoil him,' said the young woman. 'He's not used to arm-chairs,
'e isn't.

The young man turned away, and said, with ave