“ Who—the Pussum?” asked Gerald.
“ Perhaps,” said Birkin. And he rose and went to the window.
“ That is your panacea,” said Gerald. “But you haven’t even tried it on yourself yet, and you are sick enough.”
“ I am,” said Birkin. “Still, I shall come right.”
“ Through marriage?”
“ Yes,” Birkin answered obstinately.
“ And no,” added Gerald. “No, no, no, my boy.”
There was a silence between them, and a strange tension of hostility. They always kept a gap, a distance between them, they wanted always to be free each of the other. Yet there was a curious heart-straining towards each other.
“ Salvator femininus ,” said Gerald, satirically.
“ Why not?” said Birkin.
“ No reason at all,” said Gerald, “if it really works. But whom will you marry?”
“ A woman,” said
