‘No,’ said Birkin, ‘he is justified. He is not a bully. He is only insisting to the poor stray that she shall acknowledge him as a sort of fate, her own fate: because you can see she is fluffy and promiscuous as the wind. I am with him entirely. He wants superfine stability.’

‘Yes, I know!’ cried Ursula. ‘He wants his own way — I know what your fine words work down to — bossiness, I call it, bossiness.’

The young cat again glanced at Birkin in disdain of the noisy woman.

‘I quite agree with you, Miciotto,’ said Birkin to the cat. ‘Keep your male dignity, and your higher understanding.’

Again the Mino narrowed his eyes as if he were