He could not take it in.
'But is this really true, as you say it now?'
'Word for word.'
'It is?'
He leaned back in his chair, filled with delight and amusement.
'Well, that's good,' he said. 'And so you came here to wrestle with your good angel, did you?'
'Did I?' said Birkin.
'Well, it looks like it.
Isn't that what you did?'
Now Birkin could not follow Gerald's meaning.
'And what's going to happen?' said Gerald. 'You're going to keep open the proposition, so to speak?'
'I suppose so.
I vowed to myself I would see them all to the devil.
But I suppose I shall ask her again, in a little while.'
Gerald watched him steadily.
'So you're fond of her then?' he asked.
'I think—I love her,' said Birkin, his face going very still and fixed.
Gerald glistened for a moment with pleasure, as if it were something done specially to please him.
Then his face assumed a fitting gravity, and he nodded his head slowly.
'You know,' he said, 'I always believed in love—true love.
But where does one find it nowadays?'
'I don't know,' said Birkin.
'Very rarely,' said Gerald.
Then, after a pause, 'I've never felt it myself—not what I should call love.
I've gone after women—and been keen enough over some of them.
But I've never felt LOVE.
I don't believe I've ever felt as much LOVE for a woman, as I have for you—not LOVE.
You understand what I mean?'
'Yes.
I'm sure you've never loved a woman.'
'You feel that, do you?
And do you think I ever shall?
You understand what I mean?'
He put his hand to his breast, closing his fist there, as if he would draw something out.
'I mean that—that I can't express what it is, but I know it.'
'What is it, then?' asked Birkin.
'You see, I can't put it into words.
I mean, at any rate, something abiding, something that can't change—'
His eyes were bright and puzzled.
'Now do you think I shall ever feel that for a woman?' he said, anxiously.
Birkin looked at him, and shook his head.
'I don't know,' he said. 'I could not say.'
Gerald had been on the QUI VIVE, as awaiting his fate.
Now he drew back in his chair.
'No,' he said, 'and neither do I, and neither do I.'
'We are different, you and I,' said Birkin. 'I can't tell your life.'
'No,' said Gerald, 'no more can I.
But I tell you—I begin to doubt it!'
'That you will ever love a woman?'
'Well—yes—what you would truly call love—'