with you — I had to keep back — my force — ’

Birkin heard the sound as if his own spirit stood behind him, outside him, and listened to it. His body was in a trance of exhaustion, his spirit heard thinly. His body could not answer. Only he knew his heart was getting quieter. He was divided entirely between his spirit, which stood outside, and knew, and his body, that was a plunging, unconscious stroke of blood.

‘I could have thrown you — using violence — ’ panted Gerald. ‘But you beat me right enough.’

‘Yes,’ said Birkin, hardening his throat and producing the words in the tension there, ‘you’re much stronger than I — you could beat me — easily.’