`Can you tell me where Somerset Drive is?' he asked of one of the uneven men.
`Where what?' replied the tipsy miner's voice.
`Somerset Drive.'
`Somerset Drive! -- I've heard o' such a place, but I couldn't for my life say where it is. Who might you be wanting?'
`Mr Brangwen -- William Brangwen.'
`William Brangwen --? --?'
`Who teaches at the Grammar School, at Willey Green -- his daughter teaches there too.'
`O-o-o-oh, Brangwen! Now I've got you. Of course, William Brangwen! Yes, yes, he's got two lasses as teachers, aside hisself. Ay, that's him -- that's him! Why certainly I know where he lives, back your life I do! Yi -- what place do they ca' it?'
`Somerset Drive,' repeated Gerald patiently. He knew his own colliers fairly well.
`Somerset Drive, for certain!' said the collier, swinging his arm as if catching something up. `Somerset Drive -- yi! I couldn't for my life lay hold o' the lercality o' the place. Yis, I know the place, to be sure I do -- '
He turned unsteadily on his feet, and pointed up the dark, nighdeserted road.
`You go up theer -- an' you ta'e th' first -- yi, th' first turnin' on your left -- o' that side -- past Withamses tuffy shop --'
`I know,' said Gerald.
`Ay! You go down a bit, past wheer th' water-man lives -- and then Somerset Drive, as they ca' it, branches off on 't right hand side -- an' there's nowt but three houses in it, no more than three, I believe, -- an' I'm a'most certain as theirs is th' last -- th' last o' th' three -- you see --'
`Thank you very much,' said Gerald. `Good-night.'
And he started off, leaving the tipsy man there standing rooted.
Gerald went past the dark shops and houses, most of them sleeping now, and twisted round to the little blind road that ended on a field of darkness. He slowed down, as he neared his goal, not knowing how he should proceed. What if the house were closed in darkness?
But it was not. He saw a big lighted window, and heard voices, then a gate banged. His quick ears caught the sound of Birkin's voice, his keen eyes made out Birkin, with Ursula standing in a pale dress on the step of the garden path. Then Ursula stepped down, and came along the road, holding Birkin's arm.
Gerald went across into the darkness and they dawdled past him, talking happily, Birkin's voice low, Ursula's high and distinct. Gerald went quickly to the house.
The blinds were drawn before the big, lighted window of the diningroom. Looking up the path at the side he could see the door left open, shedding a soft, coloured light from the hall lamp. He went quickly and silently up the path, and looked up into the hall. There were pictures on the walls, and the antlers of a