the present. If only one might create the future after one’s own heart — for a little pure truth, a little unflinching application of simple truth to life, the heart cried out ceaselessly.

‘I can’t see what you will leave me at all, to be interested in,’ came Gerald’s voice from the lower room. ‘Neither the Pussums, nor the mines, nor anything else.’

‘You be interested in what you can, Gerald. Only I’m not interested myself,’ said Birkin.

‘What am I to do at all, then?’ came Gerald’s voice.

‘What you like. What am I to do myself?’

In the silence Birkin could feel Gerald musing this fact.