This cut her short, and there was silence.
The others came in from church, and the two had the girls to face, then the mother and Gudrun, and then the father and the boy.
“Good-evening,” said Brangwen, faintly surprised. “Came to see me, did you?”
“No,” said Birkin, “not about anything, in particular, that is. The day was dismal, and I thought you wouldn’t mind if I called in.”
“It has been a depressing day,” said Mrs Brangwen sympathetically. At that moment the voices of the children were heard calling from upstairs: “Mother! Mother!” She lifted her face and answered mildly into the distance: “I shall come up to you in a minute, Doysie.” Then to Birkin: “There is nothing fresh at Shortlands, I suppose? Ah,” she sighed, “no, poor things, I should think not.”
“You’ve been over there today, I suppose?” asked the father.
“Gerald came round to tea with me, and I walked back with him. The house is overexcited and unwholesome, I thought.”
“I should think they were people who hadn’t much restraint,” said Gudrun.
“Or too much,” Birkin answered.
“Oh yes, I’m sure,” said Gudrun, almost vindictively, “one or the other.”