Rather
chagrined, the waiter followed.

It was curious, the delight of the sisters in each other, at this
meeting. It was as if they met in exile, and united their solitary
forces against all the world. Birkin looked on with some mistrust and
wonder.

When they had bathed and changed, Gerald came in. He looked shining
like the sun on frost.

'Go with Gerald and smoke,' said Ursula to Birkin. 'Gudrun and I want
to talk.'

Then the sisters sat in Gudrun's bedroom, and talked clothes, and
experiences. Gudrun told Ursula the experience of the Birkin letter in
the cafe. Ursula was shocked and frightened.

'Where is the letter?' she asked.

'I kept it,' said Gudrun.

'You'll give it me, won't you?' she said.

But Gudrun was silent for some moments, before she replied:

'Do you really want it, Ursula?'

'I want to read it,' said Ursula.

'Certainly,' said Gudrun.

Even now, she could not admit, to Ursula, that she wanted to keep it,
as a memento, or a symbol. But Ursula knew, and was not pleased. So the
subject was switched off.

'What did you do in Paris?' asked Ursula.

'Oh,' said Gudrun laconically--'the usual things. We had a FINE party
one night in Fanny Bath's studio.'

'Did you? And you and Gerald were there! Who else? Tell me about it.'

'Well,' said Gudrun. 'There's nothing particular to tell. You know
Fanny is FRIGHTFULLY in love with that painter, Billy Macfarlane. He
was there--so Fanny spared nothing, she spent VERY freely. It was
really remarkable! Of course, everybody got fearfully drunk--but in an
interesting way, not like that filthy London crowd. The fact is these
were all people that matter, which makes all the difference. There was
a Roumanian, a fine chap. He got completely drunk, and climbed to the
top of a high studio ladder, and gave the most marvellous
address--really, Ursula, it was wonderful! He began in French--La vie,
c'est une affaire d'ames imperiales--in a most beautiful voice--he was
a fine-looking chap--but he had got into Roumanian before he had
finished, and not a soul understood. But Donald Gilchrist was worked to
a frenzy. He dashed his glass to the ground, and declared, by God, he
was glad he had been born, by God, it was a miracle to be alive. And do
you know, Ursula, so it was--' Gudrun laughed rather hollowly.

'But how was Gerald among them all?' asked Ursula.

'Gerald! Oh, my word, he came out like a dandelion in the sun! HE'S a
whole saturnalia in himself, o