He laughed as he said it. Birkin sat down near the fire.
‘What were you doing?’ he asked.
‘I? Nothing. I’m in a bad way just now, everything’s on edge, and I can neither work nor play. I don’t know whether it’s a sign of old age, I’m sure.’
‘You mean you are bored?’
‘Bored, I don’t know. I can’t apply myself. And I feel the devil is either very present inside me, or dead.’
Birkin glanced up and looked in his eyes.
‘You should try hitting something,’ he said.
Gerald smiled.
‘Perhaps,’