Women in Love (Barnes & Noble Classics S - D. H. Lawrence [87]
“Can’t I do it for you?” said Gerald, coming to take the end of the tape.
“No, thank you,” cried Hermione, stooping to the ground in her bluish, brilliant foulard. It was a great joy to her to do things, and to have the ordering of the job, with Birkin. He obeyed her subduedly. Ursula and Gerald looked on. It was a peculiarity of Hermione’s, that at every moment, she had one intimate, and turned all the rest of those present into onlookers. This raised her into a state of triumph.
They measured and discussed in the dining-room, and Hermione decided what the floor coverings must be. It sent her into a strange, convulsed anger, to be thwarted. Birkin always let her have her way, for the moment.
Then they moved across, through the hall, to the other front room, that was a little smaller than the first.
“This is the study,” said Hermione. “Rupert, I have a rug that I want you to have for here. Will you let me give it to you? Do—I want to give it you.”
“What is it like?” he asked ungraciously.
“You haven’t seen it. It is chiefly rose red, then blue, a metallic, mid-blue, and a very soft dark blue. I think you would like it. Do you think you would?”
“It sounds very nice,” he replied. “What is it? Oriental? With a pile?”
“Yes. Persian! It is made of camel’s hair, silky. I think it is called Bergamos—twelve feet by seven—. Do you think it will do?”
“It would do,” he said. “But why should you give me an expensive rug? I can manage perfectly well with my old Oxford Turkish.”
“But may I give it to you? Do let me.”
“How much did it cost?”
She looked at him, and said:
“I don’t remember. It was quite cheap.”
He looked at her, his face set.
“I don’t want to take it, Hermione,” he said.
“Do let me give it to the rooms,” she said, going up to him and putting her hand on his arm lightly, pleadingly. “I shall be so disappointed.”
“You know I don’t want you to give me things,” he repeated helplessly.
“I don’t want to give you things,” she said teasingly. “But will you have this?”
“All right,” he said, defeated, and she triumphed.
They went upstairs. There were two bedrooms to correspond with the rooms downstairs. One of them was half furnished, and Birkin had evidently slept there. Hermione went round the room carefully, taking in every detail, as if absorbing the evidence of his presence, in all the inanimate things. She felt the bed and examined the coverings.
“Are you sure you were quite comfortable?” she said, pressing the pillow.
“Perfectly,” he replied coldly.
“And were you warm? There is no down quilt. I am sure you need one. You mustn’t have a great pressure of clothes.”
“I’ve got one,” he said. “It is coming down.”
They measured the rooms, and lingered over every consideration. Ursula stood at the window and watched the woman carrying the tea up the bank to the pond. She hated the palaver Hermione made, she wanted to drink tea, she wanted anything but this fuss and business.
At last they all mounted the grassy bank, to the picnic. Hermione poured out tea. She ignored now Ursula’s presence. And Ursula, recovering from her ill-humour, turned to Gerald saying:
“Oh, I hated you so much the other day, Mr. Crich.”
“What for?” said Gerald, wincing slightly away.
“For treating your horse so badly. Oh, I hated you so much!”
“What did he do?” sang Hermione.
“He made his lovely sensitive Arab horse stand with him at the railway-crossing whilst a horrible lot of trucks went by; and the poor thing, she was in a perfect frenzy, a perfect agony. It was the most horrible sight you can imagine.”
“Why did you do it, Gerald?” asked Hermione, calm and interrogative.
“She must learn to stand—what use is she to me in this country, if she shies and goes off every time an engine whistles.”
“But why inflict unnecessary torture?” said Ursula. “Why make her stand all that time at the crossing? You might just as well have ridden back up the road, and saved all that horror. Her sides were bleeding where you had spurred her. It was too horrible—!”
Gerald stiffened.
“I have to use her,” he replied. “And if I’m going to be sure of her at all, she