“And I,” said Birkin, his face playful but yet determined, “I want a binding contract, and am not keen on love, particularly free love.”
They were both amused. Why this public avowal? Gerald seemed suspended a moment, in amusement.
“Love isn’t good enough for you?” he called.
“No!” shouted Birkin.
“Ha, well that’s being over-refined,” said Gerald, and the car ran through the mud.
“What’s the matter, really?” said Gerald, turning to Gudrun.
This was an assumption of a sort of intimacy that irritated Gudrun almost like an affront. It seemed to her that Gerald was deliberately insulting her, and infringing on the decent privacy of them all.
“What is it?” she said, in her high, repellent voice. “Don’t ask me!—I know nothing about ultimate marriage, I assure you: or even penultimate.”
“Only the ordinary unwarrantable brand!” replied Gerald. “Just so—same here. I am no expert on marriage, and degrees of ultimateness. It seems to be a bee that buzzes loudly in Rupert’s bonnet.”
“Exactly! But that is his trouble, exactly! Instead of wanting a woman for herself, he wants his ideas fulfilled. Which, when it comes to actual practice, is not good enough.”