She crept close against him, clinging fast to his thin, strong naked body, the only home she had ever known.
"Then I'll keep thee," he said. "If tha wants it, then I'll keep thee."
He held her round and fast.
"And say you're glad about the child," she repeated. "Kiss it! Kiss my womb and say you're glad it's there."
But that was more difficult for him.
"I've a dread of puttin' children i' th' world," he said. "I've such a dread o' th' future for 'em."
"But you've put it into me. Be tender to it, and that will be its future already. Kiss it!"
He quivered, because it was true. "Be tender to it, and that will be its future."—At that moment he felt a sheer love for the woman, He kissed her belly and her mound of Venus, to kiss close to the womb and the foetus within the womb.
"Oh, you love me! You love me!" she said, in a little cry like one of her blind, inarticulate love cries. And he went in to her softly, feeling the stream of tenderness flowing in release from his bowels to hers, the bowels of compassion kindled between them.
And he realized as he went in to her that this was the thing he had to do, to come into tender touch, without losing his pride or his dignity or his integrity as a man. After all, if she had money and means, and he had none, he should be too proud and honourable to hold back his tenderness from her on that account. "I stand for the touch of bodily awareness between human beings," he said to himself, "and the touch of tenderness. And she is my mate. And it is a battle against the money, and the machine, and the insentient ideal monkeyishness of the world. And she will stand behind me there. Thank God I've got a woman! Thank God I've got a woman who is with me, and tender and aware of me. Thank God she's not a bully, nor a fool. Thank God she's a tender, aware woman." And as his seed sprang in her, his soul sprang towards her too, in the creative act that is far more than procreative.
She was quite determined now that there should be no parting between him and her. But the ways and means were still to settle.
"Did you hate Bertha Coutts?" she asked him.
"Don't talk to me about her."
"Yes! You must let me. Because once you liked her. And once
