always felt fond of her. I never had anything to do with her, personally, that’s true.”
“I liked her all right, for a couple of days,” said Gerald. “But a week of her would have turned me over. There’s a certain smell about the skin of those women, that in the end is sickening beyond words—even if you like it at first.”
“I know,” said Birkin. Then he added, rather fretfully, “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.”