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plastered back, and his easy-going chumminess.
Hermione Roddice came up, in a handsome gown of
white lace, trailing an enormous silk shawl blotched with
great embroidered flowers, and balancing an enormous
plain hat on her head. She looked striking, astonishing,
almost macabre, so tall, with the fringe of her great cream-
coloured vividly-blotched shawl trailing on the ground
after her, her thick hair coming low over her eyes, her face
strange and long and pale, and the blotches of brilliant
colour drawn round her.
‘Doesn’t she look WEIRD!’ Gudrun heard some girls tit-
ter behind her. And she could have killed them.
‘How do you do!’ sang Hermione, coming up very kind-
ly, and glancing slowly over Gudrun’s father and mother. It
was a trying moment, exasperating for Gudrun. Hermione
was really so strongly entrenched in her class superiority,
she could come up and know people out of simple curios-
ity, as if they were creatures on exhibition. Gudrun would
do the same herself. But she resented being in the position
when somebody might do it to her.
Hermione, very remarkable, and distinguishing the
Brangwens very much, led them along to where Laura Crich
stood receiving the guests.
‘This is Mrs Brangwen,’ sang Hermione, and Laura, who
wore a stiff embroidered linen dress, shook hands and said
she was glad to see her. Then Gerald came up, dressed in
white, with a black and brown blazer, and looking hand-
some. He too was introduced to the Brangwen parents, and
immediately he spoke to Mrs Brangwen as if she were a lady,

230 Women in Love