next? Was it sheer blind force of passion that would
satisfy her now? Not this, but the subtle thrills of extreme sensation
in reduction. It was an unbroken will reacting against her unbroken
will in a myriad subtle thrills of reduction, the last subtle
activities of analysis and breaking down, carried out in the darkness
of her, whilst the outside form, the individual, was utterly unchanged,
even sentimental in its poses.

But between two particular people, any two people on earth, the range
of pure sensational experience is limited. The climax of sensual
reaction, once reached in any direction, is reached finally, there is
no going on. There is only repetition possible, or the going apart of
the two protagonists, or the subjugating of the one will to the other,
or death.

Gerald had penetrated all the outer places of Gudrun's soul. He was to
her the most crucial instance of the existing world, the NE PLUS ULTRA
of the world of man as it existed for her. In him she knew the world,
and had done with it. Knowing him finally she was the Alexander seeking
new worlds. But there WERE no new worlds, there were no more MEN, there
were only creatures, little, ultimate CREATURES like Loerke. The world
was finished now, for her. There was only the inner, individual
darkness, sensation within the ego, the obscene religious mystery of
ultimate reduction, the mystic frictional activities of diabolic
reducing down, disintegrating the vital organic body of life.

All this Gudrun knew in her subconsciousness, not in her mind. She knew
her next step-she knew what she should move on to, when she left
Gerald. She was afraid of Gerald, that he might kill her. But she did
not intend to be killed. A fine thread still united her to him. It
should not be HER death which broke it. She had further to go, a
further, slow exquisite experience to reap, unthinkable subtleties of
sensation to know, before she was finished.

Of the last series of subtleties, Gerald was not capable. He could not
touch the quick of her. But where his ruder blows could not penetrate,
the fine, insinuating blade of Loerke's insect-like comprehension
could. At least, it was time for her now to pass over to the other, the
creature, the final craftsman. She knew that Loerke, in his innermost
soul, was detached from everything, for him there was neither heaven
nor earth nor hell. He admitted no allegiance, he gave no adherence
anywhere. He was single and, by abstraction f