Women in Love

depends which way the wind blows.”

He looked at her quizzically, then he pursed up his lips, like Zephyrus, blowing across the snow.

“It goes towards Germany,” he said.

“I believe so,” she laughed.

Suddenly, they were aware of a vague white figure near them. It was Gerald. Gudrun’s heart leapt in sudden terror, profound terror. She rose to her feet.

“They told me where you were,” came Gerald’s voice, like a judgment in the whitish air of twilight.

Maria! You come like a ghost,” exclaimed Loerke.

Gerald did not answer. His presence was unnatural and ghostly to them.

Loerke shook the flask—then he held it inverted over the snow. Only a few brown drops trickled out.

“All gone!” he said.

To Gerald, the smallish, odd figure of the German was distinct and objective, as if seen through field

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