sense of the death towards which they were wandering。 And she
felt the first heavy yearning； heavy； heavy hopeless warning；
almost like a deep； uneasy sinking into apathy；
hopelessness。
They returned to London。 But still they had two days。 He
began to tremble； he grew feverish with the fear of her
departure。 She had in her some fatal prescience； that made her
calm。 What would be； would be。
He remained fairly easy； however； still in his state of
heightened glamour； till she had gone； and he had turned away
from St。 Pancras； and sat on the tramcar going up Pimlico to
the 〃Angel〃； to Moate Street on Sunday evening。
Then the cold horror gradually soaked into him。 He saw the
horror of the City Road； he realized the ghastly cold sordidness
of the tramcar in which he sat。 Cold； stark； ashen sterility
had him surrounded。 Where then was the luminous； wonderful world
he belonged to by rights？ How did he e to be thrown on this
refuseheap where he was？
He was as if mad。 The horror of the brick buildings； of the
tramcar； of the ashengrey people in the street made him
reeling and blind as if drunk。 He went mad。 He had lived with
her in a close； living； pulsing world； where everything pulsed
with rich being。 Now he found himself struggling amid an
ashendry； cold world of rigidity； dead walls and mechanical
traffic； and creeping； spectrelike people。 The life was
extinct； only ash moved and stirred or stood rigid； there was a
horrible； clattering activity； a rattle like the falling of dry
slag； cold and sterile。 It was as if the sunshine that fell were
unnatural light exposing the ash of the town； as if the lights
at night were the sinister gleam of deposition。
Quite mad； beside himself； he went to his club and sat with a
glass of whisky； motionless； as if turned to clay。 He felt like
a corpse that is inhabited with just enough life to make it
appear as any other of the spectral； unliving beings which we
call people in our dead language。 Her absence was worse than
pain to him。 It destroyed his being。
Dead； he went on from lunch to tea。 His face was all the time
fixed and stiff and colourless； his life was a dry； mechanical
movement。 Yet even he wondered slightly at the awful misery that
had overe him。 How could he be so ashlike and extinct？ He
wrote her a letter。
I have been thinking that we must get married before long。 My
pay will be more when I get out to India； we shall be able to
get along。 Or if you don't want to go to India； I could very
probably stay here in England。 But I think you would like India。
You could ride； and you would know just everybody out there。
Perhaps if you stay on to take your degree； we might marry
immediately after that。 I will write to your father as soon as I
hear from you
He went on； disposing of her。 If only he could be with her！
All he wanted now was to marry her； to be sure of her。 Yet all
the time he was perfectly； perfectly hopeless； cold； extinct；
without emotion or connection。
He felt as if his life were dead。 His soul was extinct。 The
whole being of him had bee sterile； he was a spectre；
divorced from life。 He had no fullness； he was just a flat
shape。 Day by day the madness accumulated in him。 The horror of
notbeing possessed him。
He went here； there； and everywhere。 But whatever he did； he
knew that only the cipher of him was there； nothing was filled
in。 He went to the theatre； what he heard and saw fell upon a
cold surface of consciousness； which was now all that he was；
there was nothing behind it； he could have no experience of any
sort。 Mechanical registering took place in him； no more。 He had
no being； no contents。 Neither had the people he came into
contact with。 They were mere permutations of known quantities。
There was no roundness or fullness in this world he now
inhabited； everything was a dead shape mental arrangement；
without life or being。
Much of the time； he was with friends and rades。 Then he
fot everything。 Their activities made up for his own
negation； they engaged his negative horror。
He only became happy when he drank； and he drank a good deal。
Then he was just the opposite to what he had been。 He became a
warm； diffuse； glowing cloud； in a warm； diffuse formless
fashion。 Everything melted down into a rosy glow； and he was the
glow； and everything was the glow； everybody else was the glow；
and it was very nice； very nice。 He would sing songs； it was so
nice。
Ursula went back to Beldover shut and firm。 She loved
Skrebensky； of that she was resolved。 She would allow nothing
else。
She read his long； obsessed letter about getting married and
going to India； without any particular response。 She seemed to
ignore what he said about marriage。 It did not e home to her。
He seemed； throughout the greater part of his letter； to be
talking without much meaning。
She replied to him pleasantly and easily。 She rarely wrote
long letters。
India sounds lovely。 I can just see myself on an elephant
swaying between lanes of obsequious natives。 But I don't know if
father would let me go。 We must see。
I keep living over again the lovely times we have had。 But I
don't think you liked me quite so much towards the end； did you？
You did not like me when we left Paris。 Why didn't you？
I love you very much。 I love your body。 It is so clear and
fine。 I am glad you do not go naked； or all the women would fall
in love with you。 I am very jealous of it； I love it so
much。
He was more or less satisfied with this letter。 But day after
day he was walking about； dead； nonexistent。
He could not e again to Nottingham until the end of April。
Then he persuaded her to go with him for a weekend to a
friend's house near Oxford。 By this time they were engaged。 He
had written to her father； and the thing was settled。 He brought
her an emerald ring； of which she was very proud。
Her people treated her now with a little distance； as if she
had already left them。 They left her very much alone。
She went with him for the three days in the country house
near Oxford。 It was delicious； and she was very happy。 But the
thing she remembered most was when； getting up in the morning
after he had gone back quietly to his own room； having spent the
night with her； she found herself very rich in being alone； and
enjoying to the full her solitary room； she drew up her blind
and saw the plum trees in the garden below all glittering and
snowy and delighted with the sunshine； in full bloom under a
blue sky。 They threw out their blossom； they flung it out under
the blue heavens； the whitest blossom！ How excited it made
her。
She had to hurry through her dressing to go and walk in the
garden under the plum trees； before anyone should e and talk
to her。 Out she slipped； and paced like a queen in fairy
pleasaunces。 The blossom was silvershadowy when she looked up
from under the tree at the blue sky。 There was a faint scent； a
faint noise of bees； a orning。
She heard the breakfast gong and went indoors。
〃Where have you been？〃 asked the others。
〃I had to go out under the plum trees；〃 she said； her face
glowing like a flower。 〃It is so lovely。〃
A shadow of anger crossed Skrebensky's soul。 She had not
wanted him to be there。 He hardened his will。
At night there was a moon； and the blossom glistened ghostly；
they went together to look at it。 She saw the moonlight on his
face as he waited near her； and his features were like silver
and his eyes in shadow were unfathomable。 She was in love with
him。 He was very quiet。
They went indoors and she pretended to be tired。 So she went
quickly to bed。
〃Don't be long ing to me；〃 she whispered； as she was
supposed to be kissing him good night。
And he waited； intent； obsessed； for the moment when he could
e to her。
She enjoyed him； she made much of him。 She liked to put her
fingers on the soft skin of his sides； or on the softness of his
back； when he made the muscles hard underneath； the muscles
developed very strong through riding； and she had a great thrill
of excitement and passion； because of the unimpressible hardness
of his body； that was so soft and smooth under her fingers； that
came to her with such absolute service。
She owned his body and enjoyed it with all the delight and
carelessness of a possessor。 But he had bee gradually afraid
of her body。 He wanted her； he wanted her endlessly。 But there
had e a tension into his desire； a constraint which prevented
his enjoying the delicious approach and the lovable close of the
endless embrace。 He was afraid。 His will was always tense；
fixed。
Her final examination was at midsummer。 She insisted on
sitting for it； although she had neglected her work during the
past months。 He also wanted her to go in for the degree。 Then；
he thought； she would be satisfied。 Secretly he hoped she would
fail； so that she would be more glad of him。
〃Would you rather live in India or in England when we are
married？〃 he asked her。
〃Oh； in India； by far；〃 she said； with a careless lack of
consideration which annoyed him。
Once she said； with heat：
〃I shall be glad to leave England。 Everything is so meagre
and paltry； it is so unspiritualI hate democracy。〃
He became angry to hear her talk like this； he did not know
why。 Somehow； he could not bear it； when she attacked things。 It
was as if she were attacking him。
〃What do you mean？〃 he asked her； hostile。 〃Why do you hate
democracy？〃
〃Only the greedy and ugly people e to the top in a
democracy；〃 she said； 〃because they're the only people who will
push themselves there。 Only degenerate races are
democratic。〃
〃What do you want thenan aristocracy？〃 he asked；
secretly moved。 He always felt that by rights he belonged to the
ruling aristocracy。 Yet to hear her speak for his class pained
him with a curious； painful pleasure。 He felt he was acquiescing
in something illegal； taking to himself some wrong；
reprehensible advantages。
〃I do want an aristocracy；〃 she cried。 〃And I'd far
rather have an aristocracy of birth than of money。 Who are the
aristocrats nowwho are chosen as the best to rule？ Those
who have money and the brains for money。 It doesn't matter what
else they have： but they must have moneyb