Page 488 - women-in-love

through sloping meadows.
He wanted to put his arm round her. If he could put his
arm round her, and draw her against him as they walked,
he would equilibriate himself. For now he felt like a pair of
scales, the half of which tips down and down into an indefi-
nite void. He must recover some sort of balance. And here
was the hope and the perfect recovery.
Blind to her, thinking only of himself, he slipped his arm
softly round her waist, and drew her to him. Her heart faint-
ed, feeling herself taken. But then, his arm was so strong,
she quailed under its powerful close grasp. She died a lit-
tle death, and was drawn against him as they walked down
the stormy darkness. He seemed to balance her perfectly in
opposition to himself, in their dual motion of walking. So,
suddenly, he was liberated and perfect, strong, heroic.
He put his hand to his mouth and threw his cigarette
away, a gleaming point, into the unseen hedge. Then he was
quite free to balance her.
‘That’s better,’ he said, with exultancy.
The exultation in his voice was like a sweetish, poisonous
drug to her. Did she then mean so much to him! She sipped
the poison.
‘Are you happier?’ she asked, wistfully.
‘Much better,’ he said, in the same exultant voice, ‘and I
was rather far gone.’
She nestled against him. He felt her all soft and warm,
she was the rich, lovely substance of his being. The warmth
and motion of her walk suffused through him wonderfully.
‘I’m SO glad if I help you,’ she said.

488 Women in Love