intimacy -- he won't have it -- he rejects it. He won't let me think, really, and he won't let me feel -- he hates feelings.'

There was a long pause, bitter for Hermione. Ah, if only he would have made this demand of her? Her he drove into thought, drove inexorably into knowledge -- and then execrated her for it.

`He wants me to sink myself,' Ursula resumed, `not to have any being of my own --'

`Then why doesn't he marry an odalisk?' said Hermione in her mild sing-song, `if it is that he wants.' Her long face looked sardonic and amused.

`Yes,' said Ursula vaguely. After all, the tiresome thing was, he did not want an odalisk, he did not want a slave. Hermione would have been his slave -- there was in her a horrible desire to prostrate herself before a man -- a man who worshipped her, however, and admitted her as the supreme thing. He did not want an odalisk. He wanted a woman to take something from him, to give herself up so much that she could take the last realities of him, the last facts, the last physical facts, physical and unbearable.

And if she did, would he acknowledge her? Would he be able to acknowledge her through everything, or would he use her just as his instrument, use her for his own private satisfaction, not admitting her? That was what the other men had done. They had wanted their own show, and they would not admit her, they turned all she was into nothingness. Just as Hermione now betrayed herself as a woman. Hermione was like a man, she believed only in men's things. She betrayed the woman in herself. And Birkin, would he acknowledge, or would he deny her?

`Yes,' said Hermione, as each woman came out of her own separate reverie. `It would be a mistake -- I think it would be a mistake --'

`To marry him?' asked Ursula.

`Yes,' said Hermione slowly -- `I think you need a man -- soldierly, strong-willed -- ' Hermione held out her hand and clenched it with rhapsodic intensity. `You should have a man like the old heroes -- you need to stand behind him as he goes into battle, you need to see his strength, and to hear his shout --. You need a man physically strong, and virile in his will, not a sensitive man --.' There was a break, as if the pythoness had uttered the oracle, and now the woman went on, in a rhapsody-wearied voice: `And you see, Rupert isn't this, he isn't. He is frail in health and body, he needs great, great care. Then he is so changeable and unsure of himself -- it requires the greatest patience and understanding to help him. And I don't think you are patient. You would have to be prepared to suffer -- dreadfully. I can't tell you how much suffering it would take to make him happy. He lives an intensely spiritual life, at times -- too, too wonderful. And then come the reactions. I can't speak of what I have been through with him. We have been together so long, I really do know him, I do know what he is. And I feel I must say it; I feel it would be perfectly disastrous for you to marry him -- for you even more than for him.' Hermione lapsed into bitter reverie. `He is so uncertain, so unstable -- he wearies, and then reacts. I couldn't tell you what his re-actions are. I couldn't tell you the agony of them. That which he affirms and loves one day -- a little latter he turns on it in a fury of destruction. He is never constant, always this awful, dreadful reaction. Always the quick change from good to bad, bad to good. And nothing is so devastating, nothing -- '

`Yes,' said Ursula humbly, `you must have suffered.'

An unearthly light came on Hermione's face. She clenched her hand like one inspired.

`And one must be willing to suffer -- willing to suffer for him hourly, daily -- if you are going to help him, if he is to keep true to anything at all -- '