said Gudrun, looking calmly at Gerald.

‘I’ve stayed at Halliday’s flat with Birkin,’ he said, meeting her slow, calm eyes. And she knew that the Pussum was one of his mistresses — and he knew she knew.

She looked round, and called for the waiter. She wanted an iced cocktail, of all things. This amused Gerald — he wondered what was up.

The Halliday party was tipsy, and malicious. They were talking out loudly about Birkin, ridiculing him on every point, particularly on his marriage.

‘Oh, DON’T make me think of Birkin,’ Halliday was squealing. ‘He makes me perfectly sick. He is as bad as Jesus. “Lord, WHAT must I do to be saved!”‘