The cat refused to look at her, indifferently avoided her fingers, and began to drink again, his nose down to the cream, perfectly balanced, as he lapped with his odd little click.

`It's bad for him, teaching him to eat at table,' said Birkin.

`Yes,' said Hermione, easily assenting.

Then, looking down at the cat, she resumed her old, mocking, humorous sing-song.

`Ti imparano fare brutte cose, brutte cose --'

She lifted the Mino's white chin on her forefinger, slowly. The young cat looked round with a supremely forbearing air, avoided seeing anything, withdrew his chin, and began to wash his face with his paw. Hermione grunted her laughter, pleased.

`Bel giovanotto --' she said.

The cat reached forward again and put his fine white paw on the edge of the saucer. Hermione lifted it down with delicate slowness. This deliberate, delicate carefulness of movement reminded Ursula of Gudrun.

`No! Non e permesso di mettere il zampino nel tondinetto. Non piace al babbo. Un signor gatto cosi selvatico --!'

And she kept her finger on the softly planted paw of the cat, and her voice had the same whimsical, humorous note of bullying.

Ursula had her nose out of joint. She wanted to go away now. It all seemed no good. Hermione was established for ever, she herself was ephemeral and had not yet even arrived.

`I will go now,' she said suddenly.

Birkin looked at her almost in fear -- he so dreaded her anger. `But there is no need for such hurry,' he said.

`Yes,' she answered. `I will go.' And turning to Hermione, before there was time to say any more, she held out her hand and said `Good-bye.'

`Good-bye --' sang Hermione, detaining the band. `Must you really go now?'

`Yes, I think I'll go,' said Ursula, her face set, and averted from Hermione's eyes.

`You think you will --'

But Ursula had got her hand free. She turned to Birkin with a quick, almost jeering: `Good-bye,' and she was opening the door before he had time to do it for her.

When she got outside the house she ran down the road in fury and agitation. It was strange, the unreasoning rage and violence Hermione roused in her, by her very presence. Ursula knew she gave herself away to the other woman, she knew she looked ill-bred, uncouth, exaggerated. But she did not care. She only ran up the road, lest she should go back and jeer in the faces of the two she had left behind. For they outraged her.