‘But go to bed, Gerald. God knows what time it is.’

Gerald looked at his watch, and at length rose off the bed, and went to his room. But he returned in a few minutes, in his shirt.

‘One thing,’ he said, seating himself on the bed again. ‘We finished up rather stormily, and I never had time to give her anything.’

‘Money?’ said Birkin. ‘She’ll get what she wants from Halliday or from one of her acquaintances.’

‘But then,’ said Gerald, ‘I’d rather give her her dues and settle the account.’

‘She doesn’t care.’

‘No, perhaps not. But one feels the account is left open, and one would rather it were closed.’