She was small and delicately made, with warm colouring and large, dark hostile eyes.
There was a delicacy, almost a beauty in all her form, and at the same time a certain attractive grossness of spirit, that made a little spark leap instantly alight in Gerald's eyes.
Birkin, who looked muted, unreal, his presence left out, introduced her as Miss Darrington.
She gave her hand with a sudden, unwilling movement, looking all the while at Gerald with a dark, exposed stare.
A glow came over him as he sat down.
The waiter appeared.
Gerald glanced at the glasses of the other two.
Birkin was drinking something green, Miss Darrington had a small liqueur glass that was empty save for a tiny drop.
'Won't you have some more—?'
'Brandy,' she said, sipping her last drop and putting down the glass.
The waiter disappeared.
'No,' she said to Birkin. 'He doesn't know I'm back. He'll be terrified when he sees me here.'
She spoke her r's like w's, lisping with a slightly babyish pronunciation which was at once affected and true to her character.
Her voice was dull and toneless.
'Where is he then?' asked Birkin.
'He's doing a private show at Lady Snellgrove's,' said the girl. 'Warens is there too.'
There was a pause.
'Well, then,' said Birkin, in a dispassionate protective manner, 'what do you intend to do?'
The girl paused sullenly.
She hated the question.
'I don't intend to do anything,' she replied. 'I shall look for some sittings tomorrow.'
'Who shall you go to?' asked Birkin.
'I shall go to Bentley's first.
But I believe he's angwy with me for running away.'
'That is from the Madonna?'
'Yes.
And then if he doesn't want me, I know I can get work with Carmarthen.'
'Carmarthen?'
'Lord Carmarthen—he does photographs.'
'Chiffon and shoulders—'
'Yes.
But he's awfully decent.'
There was a pause.
'And what are you going to do about Julius?' he asked.
'Nothing,' she said. 'I shall just ignore him.'
'You've done with him altogether?'
But she turned aside her face sullenly, and did not answer the question.
Another young man came hurrying up to the table.
'Hallo Birkin!
Hallo PUSSUM, when did you come back?' he said eagerly.
'Today.'
'Does Halliday know?'
'I don't know.
I don't care either.'
'Ha-ha!
The wind still sits in that quarter, does it?
Do you mind if I come over to this table?'
'I'm talking to Wupert, do you mind?' she replied, coolly and yet appealingly, like a child.
'Open confession—good for the soul, eh?' said the young man. 'Well, so long.'
And giving a sharp look at Birkin and at Gerald, the young man moved off, with a swing of his coat skirts.