Exuent

He looked up at her. A small smile of misery twisted his face. He
shrugged his shoulders.

'True?' he echoed.

'We haven't killed him?' she asked.

He disliked her coming to him in such a manner. He raised his shoulders
wearily.

'It has happened,' he said.

She looked at him. He sat crushed and frustrated for the time being,
quite as emotionless and barren as herself. My God! this was a barren
tragedy, barren, barren.

She returned to her room to wait for Ursula and Birkin. She wanted to
get away, only to get away. She could not think or feel until she had
got away, till she was loosed from this position.

The day passed, the next day came. She heard the sledge, saw Ursula and
Birkin alight, and she shrank from these also.

Ursula came straight up to her.

'Gudrun!' she cried, the tears running down her cheeks. And she took
her sister in her arms. Gudrun hid her face on Ursula's shoulder, but
still she could not escape the cold devil of irony that froze her soul.

'Ha, ha!' she thought, 'this is the right behaviour.' But she could not weep, and the sight of her cold, pale, impassive face
soon stopped the fountain of Ursula's tears. In a few moments, the
sisters had nothing to say to each other.

'Was it very vile to be dragged back here again?' Gudrun asked at
length.