Mino

Birkin was standing in the middle of the room, when she was shown in by
the landlady. He too was moved outside himself. She saw him agitated
and shaken, a frail, unsubstantial body silent like the node of some
violent force, that came out from him and shook her almost into a
swoon.

'You are alone?' he said.

'Yes--Gudrun could not come.' He instantly guessed why.

And they were both seated in silence, in the terrible tension of the
room. She was aware that it was a pleasant room, full of light and very
restful in its form--aware also of a fuchsia tree, with dangling
scarlet and purple flowers.

'How nice the fuchsias are!' she said, to break the silence.

'Aren't they! Did you think I had forgotten what I said?' A swoon went over Ursula's mind.

'I don't want you to remember it--if you don't want to,' she struggled
to say, through the dark mist that covered her.

There was silence for some moments.

'No,' he said. 'It isn't that. Only--if we are going to know each
other, we must pledge ourselves for ever. If we are going to make a
relationship, even of friendship, there must be something final and
infallible about it.' There was a clang of mistrust and almost anger in his voice. She did
not answer. Her heart was too much contracted. She could not have
spoken.