She was never quite sure how many defences Gudrun was having round herself.
Gudrun raised her face with difficulty and held it averted.
'I think it MIGHT be awfully jolly, as you say,' she replied. 'But don't you think it was an unpardonable liberty to take—to talk of such things to Rupert—who after all—you see what I mean, Ursula—they might have been two men arranging an outing with some little TYPE they'd picked up.
Oh, I think it's unforgivable, quite!'
She used the French word 'TYPE.'
Her eyes flashed, her soft face was flushed and sullen.
Ursula looked on, rather frightened, frightened most of all because she thought Gudrun seemed rather common, really like a little TYPE.
But she had not the courage quite to think this—not right out.
'Oh no,' she cried, stammering. 'Oh no—not at all like that—oh no!
No, I think it's rather beautiful, the friendship between Rupert and Gerald.
They just are simple—they say anything to each other, like brothers.'
Gudrun flushed deeper.
She could not BEAR it that Gerald gave her away—even to Birkin.
'But do you think even brothers have any right to exchange confidences of that sort?' she asked, with deep anger.
'Oh yes,' said Ursula. 'There's never anything said that isn't perfectly straightforward.
No, the thing that's amazed me most in Gerald—how perfectly simple and direct he can be!
And you know, it takes rather a big man.
Most of them MUST be indirect, they are such cowards.'
But Gudrun was still silent with anger.
She wanted the absolute secrecy kept, with regard to her movements.
'Won't you go?' said Ursula. 'Do, we might all be so happy!
There is something I LOVE about Gerald—he's MUCH more lovable than I thought him.
He's free, Gudrun, he really is.'
Gudrun's mouth was still closed, sullen and ugly.
She opened it at length.
'Do you know where he proposes to go?' she asked.
'Yes—to the Tyrol, where he used to go when he was in Germany—a lovely place where students go, small and rough and lovely, for winter sport!'
Through Gudrun's mind went the angry thought—'they know everything.'
'Yes,' she said aloud, 'about forty kilometres from Innsbruck, isn't it?'
'I don't know exactly where—but it would be lovely, don't you think, high in the perfect snow—?'
'Very lovely!' said Gudrun, sarcastically.
Ursula was put out.
'Of course,' she said, 'I think Gerald spoke to Rupert so that it shouldn't seem like an outing with a TYPE—'
'I know, of course,' said Gudrun, 'that he quite commonly does take up with that sort.'
'Does he!' said Ursula. 'Why how do you know?'
'I know of a model in Chelsea,' said Gudrun coldly.
Now Ursula was silent.
'Well,' she said at last, with a doubtful laugh, 'I hope he has a good time with her.'
At which Gudrun looked more glum.
Chapter 28 Gudrun in the Pompadour
Christmas drew near, all four prepared for flight.
Birkin and Ursula were busy packing their few personal things, making them ready to be sent off, to whatever country and whatever place they might choose at last.
Gudrun was very much excited.
She loved to be on the wing.
She and Gerald, being ready first, set off via London and Paris to Innsbruck, where they would meet Ursula and Birkin.
In London they stayed one night.
They went to the music-hall, and afterwards to the Pompadour Cafe.
Gudrun hated the Cafe, yet she always went back to it, as did most of the artists of her acquaintance.
She loathed its atmosphere of petty vice and petty jealousy and petty art.
Yet she always called in again, when she was in town.