'Oh!' squealed Halliday.
'He's going to cat, Maxim,' said the Pussum warningly. The suave young
Russian rose and took Halliday by the arm, leading him away. Birkin,
white and diminished, looked on as if he were displeased. The wounded,
sardonic young man moved away, ignoring his bleeding hand in the most
conspicuous fashion.
'He's an awful coward, really,' said the Pussum to Gerald. 'He's got
such an influence over Julius.'
'Who is he?' asked Gerald.
'He's a Jew, really. I can't bear him.'
'Well, he's quite unimportant. But what's wrong with Halliday?'
'Julius's the most awful coward you've ever seen,' she cried. 'He
always faints if I lift a knife--he's tewwified of me.'
'H'm!' said Gerald.
'They're all afwaid of me,' she said. 'Only the Jew thinks he's going
to show his courage. But he's the biggest coward of them all, really,
because he's afwaid what people will think about him--and Julius
doesn't care about that.'
'They've a lot of valour between them,' said Gerald good-humouredly.
The Pussum looked at him with a slow, slow smile. She was very
handsome, flushed, and confident in dreadful knowledge. Two little
points of light glinted on Gerald's eyes.
'Why do they call you Pussum, because you're like a cat?' he asked her.
'I expect so,' she said.
The smile grew more intense on his face.
'You are, rather; or a young, female panther.'
'Oh God, Gerald!' said Birkin, in some disgust.
They both looked uneasily at Birkin.
'You're silent tonight, Wupert,' she said to him, with a slight
insolence, being safe with the other man.
Halliday was coming back, looking forlorn and sick.
'Pussum,' he said, 'I wish you wouldn't do these things--Oh!' He sank
in his chair with a groan.
'You'd better go home,' she said to him.
'I WILL go home,' he said. 'But won't you all come along. Won't you
come round to the flat?' he said to Gerald. 'I should be so glad if you
would. Do--that'll be splendid. I say?' He looked round for a waiter.
'Get me a taxi.' Then he groaned again. 'Oh I do feel--perfectly
ghastly! Pussum, you see what you do to me.'
'Then why are you such an idiot?' she said with sullen calm.
'But I'm not an idiot! Oh, how awful! Do come, everybody, it will be so
splendid. Pussum, you are coming. What? Oh but you MUST come, yes, you
must. What? Oh, my dear girl, don't make a fuss now, I feel
perfectly--Oh, it's so ghastly--Ho!--er! Oh!'
'You know you can't drink,' she said to him, coldly.
'I tell you it isn't drink--it's your disgusting behaviour, Pussum,
it's nothing else. Oh, how awful! Libidnikov, do let us go.'
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