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him. The spirit had not come from any ancestor, it had come
out of the unknown. A child is the child of the mystery, or
it is uncreated.
‘The weather’s not so bad as it has been,’ said Brangwen,
after waiting a moment. There was no connection between
the two men.
‘No,’ said Birkin. ‘It was full moon two days ago.’
‘Oh! You believe in the moon then, affecting the weath-
er?’
‘No, I don’t think I do. I don’t really know enough about
it.’
‘You know what they say? The moon and the weather
may change together, but the change of the moon won’t
change the weather.’
‘Is that it?’ said Birkin. ‘I hadn’t heard it.’
There was a pause. Then Birkin said:
‘Am I hindering you? I called to see Ursula, really. Is she
at home?’
‘I don’t believe she is. I believe she’s gone to the library.
I’ll just see.’
Birkin could hear him enquiring in the dining-room.
‘No,’ he said, coming back. ‘But she won’t be long. You
wanted to speak to her?’
Birkin looked across at the other man with curious calm,
clear eyes.
‘As a matter of fact,’ he said, ‘I wanted to ask her to marry
me.’
A point of light came on the golden-brown eyes of the
elder man.

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