is hand on his heart, and
crying:

'Oh, it's given me such a turn! Pussum, I wish you wouldn't do these
things. Why did you come back?'

'Not for anything from you,' she repeated.

'You've said that before,' he cried in a high voice.

She turned completely away from him, to Gerald Crich, whose eyes were
shining with a subtle amusement.

'Were you ever vewy much afwaid of the savages?' she asked in her calm,
dull childish voice.

'No--never very much afraid. On the whole they're harmless--they're not
born yet, you can't feel really afraid of them. You know you can manage
them.'

'Do you weally? Aren't they very fierce?'

'Not very. There aren't many fierce things, as a matter of fact. There
aren't many things, neither people nor animals, that have it in them to
be really dangerous.'

'Except in herds,' interrupted Birkin.

'Aren't there really?' she said. 'Oh, I thought savages were all so
dangerous, they'd have your life before you could look round.'

'Did you?' he laughed. 'They are over-rated, savages. They're too much
like other people, not exciting, after the first acquaintance.'

'Oh, it's not so very wonderfully brave then, to be an explorer?'

'No. It's more a question of hardships than of terrors.'

'Oh! And weren't you ever afraid?'

'In my life? I don't know. Yes, I'm afraid of some things--of being
shut up, locked up anywhere--or being fastened. I'm afraid of being
bound hand and foot.'

She looked at him steadily with her dark eyes, that rested on him and
roused him so deeply, that it left his upper self quite calm. It was
rather delicious, to feel her drawing his self-revelations from him, as
from the very innermost dark marrow of his body. She wanted to know.
And her dark eyes seemed to be looking through into his naked organism.
He felt, she was compelled to him, she was fated to come into contact
with him, must have the seeing him and knowing him. And this roused a
curious exultance. Also he felt, she must relinquish herself into his
hands, and be subject to him. She was so profane, slave-like, watching
him, absorbed by him. It was not that she was interested in what he
said; she was absorbed by his self-revelation, by HIM, she wanted the
secret of him, the experience of his male being.

Gerald's face was lit up with an uncanny smile, full of light and
rousedness, yet unconscious. He sat with his arms on the table, his
sunbrowned, rather sinister hands, that were animal and yet very