Winifred was very quiet, but Gudrun had
not noticed. Suddenly the child asked, in a voice of unconcern:

'Do you think my father's going to die, Miss Brangwen?'

Gudrun started.

'I don't know,' she replied.

'Don't you truly?'

'Nobody knows for certain. He MAY die, of course.'

The child pondered a few moments, then she asked:

'But do you THINK he will die?'

It was put almost like a question in geography or science, insistent,
as if she would force an admission from the adult. The watchful,
slightly triumphant child was almost diabolical.

'Do I think he will die?' repeated Gudrun. 'Yes, I do.'

But Winifred's large eyes were fixed on her, and the girl did not move.

'He is very ill,' said Gudrun.

A small smile came over Winifred's face, subtle and sceptical.

'I don't believe he will,' the child asserted, mockingly, and she moved
away into the drive. Gudrun watched the isolated figure, and her heart
stood still. Winifred was playing with a little rivulet of water,
absorbedly as if nothing had been said.

'I've made a proper dam,' she said, out of the moist distance.

Gerald came to the door from out of the hall behind.

'It is just as well she doesn't choose to believe it,' he said.

Gudrun looked at him. Their eyes met; and they exchanged a sardonic
understanding.

'Just as well,' said Gudrun.

He looked at her again, and a fire flickered up in his eyes.

'Best to dance while Rome burns, since it must burn, don't you think?'
he said.

She was rather taken aback. But, gathering herself together, she
replied:

'Oh--better dance than wail, certainly.'

'So I think.'

And they both felt the subterranean desire to let go, to fling away
everything, and lapse into a sheer unrestraint, brutal and licentious.
A strange black passion surged up pure in Gudrun. She felt strong. She
felt her hands so strong, as if she could tear the world asunder with
them. She remembered the abandonments of Roman licence, and her heart
grew hot. She knew she wanted this herself also--or something,
something equivalent. Ah, if that which was unknown and suppressed in
her were once let loose, what an orgiastic and satisfying event it
would be. And she wanted it, she trembled slightly from the proximity
of the man, who stood just behind her, suggestive of the same black
licentiousness that rose in herself. She wanted it with him, this
unacknowledged frenzy. For a moment the clear perception of this
preoccupied he