‘Oh, I think they’re beastly, they’re horrid,’ she cried. ‘If I see one, it gives me the creeps all over. If one were to crawl on me, I’m SURE I should die — I’m sure I should.’

‘I hope not,’ whispered the young Russian.

‘I’m sure I should, Maxim,’ she asseverated.

‘Then one won’t crawl on you,’ said Gerald, smiling and knowing. In some strange way he understood her.

‘It’s metaphysical, as Gerald says,’ Birkin stated.

There was a little pause of uneasiness.

‘And are you afraid of nothing else, Pussum?’ asked the young