silence. Hermione felt injured,
that all her good intention, all her offering, only left the other
woman in vulgar antagonism. But then, Ursula could not understand,
never would understand, could never be more than the usual jealous and
unreasonable female, with a good deal of powerful female emotion,
female attraction, and a fair amount of female understanding, but no
mind. Hermione had decided long ago that where there was no mind, it
was useless to appeal for reason--one had merely to ignore the
ignorant. And Rupert--he had now reacted towards the strongly female,
healthy, selfish woman--it was his reaction for the time being--there
was no helping it all. It was all a foolish backward and forward, a
violent oscillation that would at length be too violent for his
coherency, and he would smash and be dead. There was no saving him.
This violent and directionless reaction between animalism and spiritual
truth would go on in him till he tore himself in two between the
opposite directions, and disappeared meaninglessly out of life. It was
no good--he too was without unity, without MIND, in the ultimate stages
of living; not quite man enough to make a destiny for a woman.

They sat on till Birkin came in and found them together. He felt at
once the antagonism in the atmosphere, something radical and
insuperable, and he bit his lip. But he affected a bluff manner.

'Hello, Hermione, are you back again? How do you feel?'

'Oh, better. And how are you--you don't look well--'

'Oh!--I believe Gudrun and Winnie Crich are coming in to tea. At least
they said they were. We shall be a tea-party. What train did you come
by, Ursula?'

It was rather annoying to see him trying to placate both women at once.
Both women watched him, Hermione with deep resentment and pity for him,
Ursula very impatient. He was nervous and apparently in quite good
spirits, chattering the conventional commonplaces. Ursula was amazed
and indignant at the way he made small-talk; he was adept as any FAT in
Christendom. She became quite stiff, she would not answer. It all
seemed to her so false and so belittling. And still Gudrun did not
appear.

'I think I shall go to Florence for the winter,' said Hermione at
length.

'Will you?' he answered. 'But it is so cold there.'

'Yes, but I shall stay with Palestra. It is quite comfortable.'

'What takes you to Florence?'

'I don't know,' said Hermione slowly. Then she looked at him with her
slow, heavy