Page 486 - women-in-love

‘I don’t think it’s any good going away now, mother, at
the last minute,’ he said, coldly.
‘You take care,’ replied his mother. ‘You mind YOUR-
SELF—that’s your business. You take too much on yourself.
You mind YOURSELF, or you’ll find yourself in Queer
Street, that’s what will happen to you. You’re hysterical, al-
ways were.’
‘I’m all right, mother,’ he said. ‘There’s no need to worry
about ME, I assure you.’
‘Let the dead bury their dead—don’t go and bury your-
self along with them—that’s what I tell you. I know you well
enough.’
He did not answer this, not knowing what to say. The
mother sat bunched up in silence, her beautiful white hands,
that had no rings whatsoever, clasping the pommels of her
arm-chair.
‘You can’t do it,’ she said, almost bitterly. ‘You haven’t the
nerve. You’re as weak as a cat, really—always were. Is this
young woman staying here?’
‘No,’ said Gerald. ‘She is going home tonight.’
‘Then she’d better have the dog-cart. Does she go far?’
‘Only to Beldover.’
‘Ah!’ The elderly woman never looked at Gudrun, yet she
seemed to take knowledge of her presence.
‘You are inclined to take too much on yourself, Gerald,’
said the mother, pulling herself to her feet, with a little dif-
ficulty.
‘Will you go, mother?’ he asked, politely.
‘Yes, I’ll go up again,’ she replied. Turning to Gudrun,

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