army of white geese marched aside in braggart protest。 Ursula
was light as a white ball of down。 Skrebensky drifted beside
her; indefinite; his old from loosened; and another self; grey;
vague; drifting out as from a bud。 They talked lightly; of
nothing。
The blue way of the canal wound softly between the autumn
hedges; on towards the greenness of a small hill。 On the left
was the whole black agitation of colliery and railway and the
town which rose on its hill; the church tower topping all。 The
round white dot of the clock on the tower was distinct in the
evening light。
That way; Ursula felt; was the way to London; through the
grim; alluring seethe of the town。 On the other hand was the
evening; mellow over the green water…meadows and the winding
alder trees beside the river; and the pale stretches of stubble
beyond。 There the evening glowed softly; and even a pee…wit was
flapping in solitude and peace。
Ursula and Anton Skrebensky walked along the ridge of the
canal between。 The berries on the hedges were crimson and bright
red; above the leaves。 The glow of evening and the wheeling of
the solitary pee…wit and the faint cry of the birds came to meet
the shuffling noise of the pits; the dark; fuming stress of the
town opposite; and they two walked the blue strip of water…way;
the ribbon of sky between。
He was looking; Ursula thought; very beautiful; because of a
flush of sunburn on his hands and face。 He was telling her how
he had learned to shoe horses and select cattle fit for
killing。
〃Do you like to be a soldier?〃 she asked。
〃I am not exactly a soldier;〃 he replied。
〃But you only do things for wars;〃 she said。
〃Yes。〃
〃Would you like to go to war?〃
〃I? Well; it would be exciting。 If there were a war I would
want to go。〃
A strange; distracted feeling came over her; a sense of
potent unrealities。
〃Why would you want to go?〃