Women in Love

have any thoughts or any desires or any will, just to be still with her, to be perfectly still and together, in a peace that was not sleep, but content in bliss. To be content in bliss, without desire or insistence anywhere, this was heaven: to be together in happy stillness.

For a long time she nestled to him, and he kissed her softly, her hair, her face, her ears, gently, softly, like dew falling. But this warm breath on her ears disturbed her again, kindled the old destructive fires. She cleaved to him, and he could feel his blood changing like quicksilver.

“But we’ll be still, shall we?” he said.

“Yes,” she said, as if submissively.

And she continued to nestle against him.

But in a little while she drew away and looked at him.

“I must be going home,” she said.

“Must you—how sad,” he replied.

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