artling of which was the
Baronet's, which rattled out like a clatter of falling stones.

'What is the book?' asked Alexander, promptly.

'Fathers and Sons, by Turgenev,' said the little foreigner, pronouncing
every syllable distinctly. She looked at the cover, to verify herself.

'An old American edition,' said Birkin.

'Ha!--of course--translated from the French,' said Alexander, with a
fine declamatory voice. 'Bazarov ouvra la porte et jeta les yeux dans
la rue.'

He looked brightly round the company.

'I wonder what the "hurriedly" was,' said Ursula.

They all began to guess.

And then, to the amazement of everybody, the maid came hurrying with a
large tea-tray. The afternoon had passed so swiftly.

After tea, they were all gathered for a walk.

'Would you like to come for a walk?' said Hermione to each of them, one
by one. And they all said yes, feeling somehow like prisoners
marshalled for exercise. Birkin only refused.

'Will you come for a walk, Rupert?'

'No, Hermione.'

'But are you SURE?'

'Quite sure.' There was a second's hesitation.

'And why not?' sang Hermione's question. It made her blood run sharp,
to be thwarted in even so trifling a matter. She intended them all to
walk with her in the park.

'Because I don't like trooping off in a gang,' he said.

Her voice rumbled in her throat for a moment. Then she said, with a
curious stray calm:

'Then we'll leave a little boy behind, if he's sulky.'

And she looked really gay, while she insulted him. But it merely made
him stiff.

She trailed off to the rest of the company, only turning to wave her
handkerchief to him, and to chuckle with laughter, singing out:

'Good-bye, good-bye, little boy.'

'Good-bye, impudent hag,' he said to himself.

They all went through the park. Hermione wanted to show them the wild
daffodils on a little slope. 'This way, this way,' sang her leisurely
voice at intervals. And they had all to come this way. The daffodils
were pretty, but who could see them? Ursula was stiff all over with
resentment by this time, resentment of the whole atmosphere. Gudrun,
mocking and objective, watched and registered everything.

They looked at the shy deer, and Hermione talked to the stag, as if he
too were a boy she wanted to wheedle and fondle. He was male, so she
must exert some kind of power over him. They trailed home by the
fish-ponds, and Hermione told them about the quarrel of two male swans,
who had striven fo