Page 485 - women-in-love

heard. Her bulk seemed hunched in the chair, her fair hair
hung slack over her ears. But her skin was clear and fine, her
hands, as she sat with them forgotten and folded, were quite
beautiful, full of potential energy. A great mass of energy
seemed decaying up in that silent, hulking form.
She looked up at her son, as he stood, keen and soldierly,
near to her. Her eyes were most wonderfully blue, bluer than
forget-me-nots. She seemed to have a certain confidence in
Gerald, and to feel a certain motherly mistrust of him.
‘How are YOU?’ she muttered, in her strangely quiet
voice, as if nobody should hear but him. ‘You’re not getting
into a state, are you?
You’re not letting it make you hysterical?’
The curious challenge in the last words startled
Gudrun.
‘I don’t think so, mother,’ he answered, rather coldly
cheery.
‘Somebody’s got to see it through, you know.’
‘Have they? Have they?’ answered his mother rapidly.
‘Why should YOU take it on yourself? What have you got
to do, seeing it through. It will see itself through. You are
not needed.’
‘No, I don’t suppose I can do any good,’ he answered. ‘It’s
just how it affects us, you see.’
‘You like to be affected—don’t you? It’s quite nuts for
you? You would have to be important. You have no need to
stop at home. Why don’t you go away!’
These sentences, evidently the ripened grain of many
dark hours, took Gerald by surprise.

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