“I don’t know,” laughed Gerald.
“At any rate, one feels freer and more open now—and that is what we want.”
“Certainly,” said Gerald.
They drew to the fire, with the decanters and the glasses and the food.
“I always eat a little before I go to bed,” said Gerald. “I sleep better.”
“I should not sleep so well,” said Birkin.
“No? There you are, we are not alike. I’ll put a dressing-gown on.” Birkin remained alone, looking at the fire. His mind had reverted to Ursula. She seemed to return again into his consciousness. Gerald came down wearing a gown of broad-barred, thick black-and-green silk, brilliant and striking.
“You are very fine,” said Birkin, looking at the full robe.
“It was a caftan in Bokhara,” said Gerald. “I like it.”
“I like it too.”