‘I’d rather it had been the Orinoco.’

They both laughed at the poor joke. Gerald was thinking how Gudrun had said she would strike the last blow too. But some reserve made him keep this back from Birkin.

‘And you resent it?’ Birkin asked.

‘I don’t resent it. I don’t care a tinker’s curse about it.’ He was silent a moment, then he added, laughing. ‘No, I’ll see it through, that’s all. She seemed sorry afterwards.’

‘Did she? You’ve not met since that night?’

Gerald’s face clouded.

‘No,’ he said. ‘We’ve been — you can imagine how it’s