Women in Love - The Original Classic Edition. Lawrence D

'There!' sang Hermione, with a strange ring of malevolent victory. 'I'm so sorry, so awfully sorry. Can't you get it, Gerald?'

       This last was said in a note of anxious sneering that made Gerald's veins tingle with fine hate for her. He leaned far out of the boat,

       reaching down into the water. He could feel his position was ridiculous, his loins exposed behind him.

       'It is of no importance,' came the strong, clanging voice of Gudrun. She seemed to touch him. But he reached further, the boat swayed violently. Hermione, however, remained unperturbed. He grasped the book, under the water, and brought it up, dripping.

       'I'm so dreadfully sorry--dreadfully sorry,' repeated Hermione. 'I'm afraid it was all my fault.'

       'It's of no importance--really, I assure you--it doesn't matter in the least,' said Gudrun loudly, with emphasis, her face flushed scarlet. And she held out her hand impatiently for the wet book, to have done with the scene. Gerald gave it to her. He was not quite himself.

       'I'm so dreadfully sorry,' repeated Hermione, till both Gerald and Gudrun were exasperated. 'Is there nothing that can be done?'

       'In what way?' asked Gudrun, with cool irony.

       'Can't we save the drawings?'

       There was a moment's pause, wherein Gudrun made evident all her refutation of Hermione's persistence.

       'I assure you,' said Gudrun, with cutting distinctness, 'the drawings are quite as good as ever they were, for my purpose. I want them only for reference.'

       'But can't I give you a new book? I wish you'd let me do that. I feel so truly sorry. I feel it was all my fault.'

       'As far as I saw,' said Gudrun, 'it wasn't your fault at all. If there was any FAULT, it was Mr Crich's. But the whole thing is ENTIRELY trivial, and it really is ridiculous to take any notice of it.'

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       Gerald watched Gudrun closely, whilst she repulsed Hermione. There was a body of cold power in her. He watched her with an insight that amounted to clairvoyance. He saw her a dangerous, hostile spirit, that could stand undiminished and unabated. It was so finished, and of such perfect gesture, moreover.

       'I'm awfully glad if it doesn't matter,' he said; 'if there's no real harm done.'

       She looked back at him, with her fine blue eyes, and signalled full into his spirit, as she said, her voice ringing with intimacy almost

       caressive now it was addressed to him:

       'Of course, it doesn't matter in the LEAST.'