“To give you a chair—that—with the label on it,” he said, pointing.
The man looked at the object indicated. There was a curious hostility in male, outlawed understanding between the two men.
“What’s she warnt to give it us for, guvnor,” he replied, in a tone of free intimacy that insulted Ursula.
“Thought you’d like it—it’s a pretty chair. We bought it and don’t want it. No need for you to have it, don’t be frightened,” said Birkin, with a wry smile.
The man glanced up at him, half inimical, half recognising.
“Why don’t you want it for yourselves, if you’ve just bought it?” asked the woman coolly. “’Taint good enough for you, now you’ve had a look at it. Frightened it’s got something in it, eh?”
She was looking at Ursula, admiringly, but with some resentment.