“Awfully comfortable,” she said. “But rather hard. You try it.” She invited the young man to a seat. But he turned uncouthly, awkwardly aside, glancing up at her with quick bright eyes, oddly suggestive, like a quick, live rat.
“Don’t spoil him,” said the young woman. “He’s not used to arm-chairs, ’e isn’t.”
The young man turned away, and said, with averted grin:
“Only warnts legs on ’is.”
The four parted. The young woman thanked them.
“Thank you for the chair—it’ll last till it gives way.”
“Keep it for an ornyment,” said the young man.
“Good afternoon—good afternoon,” said Ursula and Birkin.
“Goo’-luck to you,” said the young man, glancing and avoiding Birkin’s eyes, as he turned aside his head.
The two couples went asunder, Ursula clinging to