shapely and attractive, pushed forward towards her. And they fascinated
her. And she knew, she watched her own fascination.

Other men had come to the table, to talk with Birkin and Halliday.
Gerald said in a low voice, apart, to Pussum:

'Where have you come back from?'

'From the country,' replied Pussum, in a very low, yet fully resonant
voice. Her face closed hard. Continually she glanced at Halliday, and
then a black flare came over her eyes. The heavy, fair young man
ignored her completely; he was really afraid of her. For some moments
she would be unaware of Gerald. He had not conquered her yet.

'And what has Halliday to do with it?' he asked, his voice still muted.

She would not answer for some seconds. Then she said, unwillingly:

'He made me go and live with him, and now he wants to throw me over.
And yet he won't let me go to anybody else. He wants me to live hidden
in the country. And then he says I persecute him, that he can't get rid
of me.'

'Doesn't know his own mind,' said Gerald.

'He hasn't any mind, so he can't know it,' she said. 'He waits for what
somebody tells him to do. He never does anything he wants to do
himself--because he doesn't know what he wants. He's a perfect baby.'

Gerald looked at Halliday for some moments, watching the soft, rather
degenerate face of the young man. Its very softness was an attraction;
it was a soft, warm, corrupt nature, into which one might plunge with
gratification.

'But he has no hold over you, has he?' Gerald asked.

'You see he MADE me go and live with him, when I didn't want to,' she
replied. 'He came and cried to me, tears, you never saw so many, saying
HE COULDN'T bear it unless I went back to him. And he wouldn't go away,
he would have stayed for ever. He made me go back. Then every time he
behaves in this fashion. And now I'm going to have a baby, he wants to
give me a hundred pounds and send me into the country, so that he would
never see me nor hear of me again. But I'm not going to do it, after--'

A queer look came over Gerald's face.

'Are you going to have a child?' he asked incredulous. It seemed, to
look at her, impossible, she was so young and so far in spirit from any
child-bearing.

She looked full into his face, and her dark, inchoate eyes had now a
furtive look, and a look of a knowledge of evil, dark and indomitable.
A flame ran secretly to his heart.

'Yes,' she said. 'Isn't it beastly?'

'Don't you want it?' he aske