Women in Love

Hermione, very remarkable, and distinguishing the Brangwens very much, led them along to where Laura Crich stood receiving the guests.

‘This is Mrs Brangwen,’ sang Hermione, and Laura, who wore a stiff embroidered linen dress, shook hands and said she was glad to see her. Then Gerald came up, dressed in white, with a black and brown blazer, and looking handsome. He too was introduced to the Brangwen parents, and immediately he spoke to Mrs Brangwen as if she were a lady, and to Brangwen as if he were NOT a gentleman. Gerlad was so obvious in his demeanour. He had to shake hands with his left hand, because he had hurt his right, and carried it, bandaged up, in the pocket of his jacket. Gudrun was VERY thankful that none of her party asked him what was the matter with the hand.

The steam launch was fussing in, all its music jingling, people calling excitedly from on board. Gerald went to see to the debarkation, Birkin was getting tea for Mrs Brangwen, Brangwen had joined a Grammar-School group, Hermione was sitting down by their mother, the girls went to the landing-stage to watch the launch come in.

She hooted and tooted gaily, then her paddles were silent, the ropes were thrown ashore, she drifted in with a little bump. Immediately the passengers crowded excitedly to come ashore.

‘Wait a minute, wait a minute,’ shouted Gerald in sharp command.

They must wait till the boat was tight on the ropes, till the small gangway was put out. Then they streamed ashore, clamouring as if they had come from America.

‘Oh it’s SO nice!’ the young girls were crying. ‘It’s quite lovely.’

The waiters from on board ran out to the boat-house with baskets, the captain lounged on the little bridge. Seeing all safe, Gerald came to Gudrun and Ursula.

‘You wouldn’t care to go on board for the next trip, and have tea there?’ he asked.

‘No thanks,’ said Gudrun coldly.

‘You don’t care for the water?’

‘For the water? Yes, I like it very much.’

He looked at her, his eyes searching.

‘You don’t care for going on a launch, then?’

She was slow in answering, and then she spoke slowly.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I can’t say that I do.’ Her colour was high, she seemed angry about something.

‘Un peu trop de monde,’ said Ursula, explaining.

‘Eh? TROP DE MONDE!’ He laughed shortly. ‘Yes there’s a fair number of ‘em.’

Gudrun turned on him brilliantly.

‘Have you ever been from Westminster Bridge to Richmond on one of the Thames steamers?’ she cried.

‘No,’ he said, ‘I can’t say I have.’

‘Well, it’s one of the most VILE experiences I’ve ever had.’ She spoke rapidly and excitedly, the colour high in her cheeks. ‘There was absolutely nowhere to sit down, nowhere, a man just above sang “Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep” the WHOLE way; he was blind and he had a small organ, one of those portable organs, and he expected money; so you can imagine what THAT was like; there came a constant smell of luncheon from below, and puffs of hot oily machinery; the journey took hours and hours and hours; and for miles, literally for miles, dreadful boys ran with us on the shore, in that AWFUL Thames mud, going in UP TO THE WAIST—they had their trousers turned back, and they went up to their hips in that indescribable Thames mud, their faces always turned to us, and screaming, exactly like carrion creatures, screaming “‘Ere y’are sir, ‘ere y’are sir, ‘ere y’are sir,” exactly like some foul carrion objects, perfectly obscene; and paterfamilias on board, laughing when the boys went right down in that awful mud, occasionally throwing them a ha’penny. And if you’d seen the intent look on the faces of these boys, and the way they darted in the filth when a coin was flung—really, no vulture or jackal could dream of approaching them, for foulness. I NEVER would go on a pleasure boat again—never.’

Gerald watched her all the time she spoke, his eyes glittering with faint rousedness. It was not so much what she said; it was she herself who roused him, roused him with a small, vivid pricking.

‘Of course,’ he said, ‘every civilised body is bound to have its vermin.’

‘Why?’ cried Ursula. ‘I don’t have vermin.’

‘And it’s not that—it’s the QUALITY of the whole thing—paterfamilias laughing and thinking it sport, and throwing the ha’pennies, and materfamilias spreading her fat little knees and eating, continually eating—’ replied Gudrun.

‘Yes,’ said Ursula. ‘It isn’t the boys so much who are vermin; it’s the people themselves, the whole body politic, as you call it.’

Gerald laughed.

‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘You shan’t go on the launch.’

Gudrun flushed quickly at his rebuke.

There were a few moments of silence. Gerald, like a sentinel, was watching the people who were going on to the boat. He was very goodlooking and self-contained, but his air of soldierly alertness was rather irritating.

‘Will you have tea here then, or go across to the house, where there’s a tent on the lawn?’ he asked.

‘Can’t we have a rowing boat, and get out?’ asked Ursula, who was always rushing in too fast.

‘To get out?’ smiled Gerald.