`Good,' he said.
Still it needed some courage for him to go on.
`Was Mrs Birkin your sister?' he asked.
`Yes.'
`And was she married?'
`She was married.'
`Have you parents, then?'
`Yes,' said Gudrun, `we have parents.'
And she told him, briefly, laconically, her position. He watched her closely, curiously all the while.
`So!' he exclaimed, with some surprise. `And the Herr Crich, is he rich?'
`Yes, he is rich, a coal owner.'
`How long has your friendship with him lasted?'
`Some months.'
There was a pause.
`Yes, I am surprised,' he said at length. `The English, I thought they were so -- cold. And what do you think to do when you leave here?'
`What do I think to do?' she repeated.
`Yes. You cannot go back to the teaching. No --' he shrugged his shoulders -- `that is impossible. Leave that to the canaille who can do nothing else. You, for your part -- you know, you are a remarkable woman, eine seltsame Frau. Why deny it -- why make any question of it? You are an extraordinary woman, why should you follow the ordinary course, the ordinary life?'
Gudrun sat looking at her hands, flushed. She was pleased that he said, so simply, that she was a remarkable woman. He would not say that to flatter her -- he was far too self-opinionated and objective by nature. He said it as he would say a piece of sculpture was remarkable, because he knew it was so.
And it gratified her to hear it from him. Other people had such a passion to make everything of one degree, of one pattern. In England it was chic to be perfectly ordinary. And it was a relief to her to be acknowledged extraordinary. Then she need not fret about the common standards.
`You see,' she said, `I have no money whatsoever.'
`Ach, money!' he cried, lifting his shoulders. `When one is grown up, money is lying about at one's service. It is only when one is young that it is rare. Take no thought for money -- that always lies to hand.'
`Does it?' she said, laughing.
`Always. The Gerald will give you a sum, if you ask him for it --'
She flushed deeply.