“I will go now,” she said suddenly.
Birkin looked at her almost in fear—he so dreaded her anger. “But there is no need for such hurry,” he said.
“Yes,” she answered. “I will go.” And turning to Hermione, before there was time to say any more, she held out her hand and said “Good-bye.”
“Good-bye—” sang Hermione, detaining the hand. “Must you really go now?”
“Yes, I think I’ll go,” said Ursula, her face set, and averted from Hermione’s eyes.
“You think you will—”
But Ursula had got her hand free. She turned to Birkin with a quick, almost jeering: “Good-bye,” and she was opening the door before he had time to do it for her.
When she got outside the house she ran down the road in fury and agitation. It was strange, the unreasoning rage and violence Hermione roused in her, by her very presence. Ursula knew she gave herself away to the other woman, she knew she looked ill-bred, uncouth, exaggerated. But she did not care. She only ran up the road, lest she should go back and jeer in the faces of the two she had left behind. For they outraged her.
CHAPTER XXIII.
EXCURSE
Next day Birkin sought Ursula out. It happened to be the half-day at the Grammar School. He appeared towards the end of the morning, and asked her, would she drive with him in the afternoon. She consented. But her face was closed and unresponding, and his heart sank.