Page 235 - women-in-love

He looked from one to the other, smiling. He was some-
what offended—yet sporting.
‘Can you manage a boat pretty well?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ replied Gudrun, coldly, ‘pretty well.’
‘Oh yes,’ cried Ursula. ‘We can both of us row like water-
spiders.’
‘You can? There’s light little canoe of mine, that I didn’t
take out for fear somebody should drown themselves. Do
you think you’d be safe in that?’
‘Oh perfectly,’ said Gudrun.
‘What an angel!’ cried Ursula.
‘Don’t, for MY sake, have an accident—because I’m re-
sponsible for the water.’
‘Sure,’ pledged Gudrun.
‘Besides, we can both swim quite well,’ said Ursula.
‘Well—then I’ll get them to put you up a tea-basket, and
you can picnic all to yourselves,—that’s the idea, isn’t it?’
‘How fearfully good! How frightfully nice if you could!’
cried Gudrun warmly, her colour flushing up again. It made
the blood stir in his veins, the subtle way she turned to him
and infused her gratitude into his body.
‘Where’s Birkin?’ he said, his eyes twinkling. ‘He might
help me to get it down.’
‘But what about your hand? Isn’t it hurt?’ asked Gudrun,
rather muted, as if avoiding the intimacy. This was the first
time the hurt had been mentioned. The curious way she
skirted round the subject sent a new, subtle caress through
his veins. He took his hand out of his pocket. It was ban-
daged. He looked at it, then put it in his pocket again.

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