in the house； and died very gradually。 I asked her if his death
wasn't a great trouble to her。 'Well；' she said； 'he was very
fretful towards the last； never satisfied； never easy； always
fret…fretting； an' never knowing what would satisfy him。 So in
one way it was a relief when it was over……for him and for
everybody。' They had only been married two years； and she has
one boy。 I asked her if she hadn't been very happy。 'Oh； yes；
sir； we was very fortable at first； till he took
bad……oh； we was very fortable……oh； yes……but；
you see； you get used to it。 I've had my father and two brothers
go off just the same。 You get used to it'。〃
〃It's a horrible thing to get used to；〃 said Winifred Inger；
with a shudder。
〃Yes；〃 he said； still smiling。 〃But that's how they are。
She'll be getting married again directly。 One man or
another……it does not matter very much。 They're all
colliers。〃
〃What do you mean？〃 asked Ursula。 〃They're all colliers？〃
〃It is with the women as with us；〃 he replied。 〃Her husband
was John Smith； loader。 We reckoned him as a loader； he reckoned
himself as a loader； and so she knew he represented his job。
Marriage and home is a little side…show。
〃The women know it right enough； and take it for what it's
worth。 One man or another； it doesn't matter all the world。 The
pit matters。 Round the pit there will always be the sideshows；
plenty of 'em。〃
He looked round at the red chaos； the rigid； amorphous
confusion of Wiggiston。
〃Every man his own little side…show； his home； but the pit
owns every man。 The women have what is left。 What's left of this
man； or what is left of that……it doesn't matter altogether。
The pit takes all that really matters。〃
〃It is the same everywhere；〃 burst out Winifred。 〃It is the
office； or the shop； or the business that gets the man； the
woman gets the bit the shop can't digest。 What is he at home； a
man？ He is a meaningless lump……a standing machine； a
machine out of work。〃
〃They know they are sold；〃 said Tom Brangwen。 〃That's where
it is。 They know they are sold to their job。 If a woman talks
her throat out； what difference can it make？ The man's sold to
his job。 So the women don't bother。 They take what they can
catch……and vogue la galere。〃
〃Aren't they very strict here？〃 asked Miss Inger。
〃Oh； no。 Mrs。 Smith has two sisters who have just changed
husbands。 They're not very particular……neither are they
very interested。 They go dragging along what is left from the
pits。 They're not interested enough to be very immoral……it
all amounts to the same thing； moral or immoral……just a
question of pit…wages。 The most moral duke in England makes two
hundred thousand a year out of these pits。 He keeps the morality
end up。〃
Ursula sat black…souled and very bitter； hearing the two of
them talk。 There seemed something ghoulish even in their very
deploring of the state of things。 They seemed to take a ghoulish
satisfaction in it。 The pit was the great mistress。 Ursula
looked out of the window and saw the proud； demonlike colliery
with her wheels twinkling in the heavens； the formless； squalid
mass of the town lying aside。 It was the squalid heap of
side…shows。 The pit was the main show； the raison d'etre
of all。
How terrible it was！ There was a horrible fascination
in it……human bodies and lives subjected in slavery to that
symmetric monster of the colliery。 There was a swooning；
perverse satisfaction in it。 For a moment she was dizzy。
Then she recovered； felt herself in a great loneliness；
where…in she was sad but free。 She had departed。 No more would
she subscribe to the great colliery； to the great machine which
has taken us all captives。 In her soul； she was against it； she
disowned even its power。 It had only to be forsaken to be inane；
meaningless。 And she knew it was meaningless。 But it needed a
great； passionate effort of will on her part； seeing the
colliery； still to maintain her knowledge that it was
meaningless。
But her Uncle Tom and her mistress remained there among the
horde； cynically reviling the monstrous state and yet adhering
to it； like a man who reviles his mistress； yet who is in love
with her。 She knew her Uncle Tom perceived what was going on。
But she knew moreover that in spite of his criticism and
condemnation； he still wanted the great machine。 His only happy
moments； his only moments of pure freedom were when he was
serving the machine。 Then； and then only； when the machine
caught him up； was he free from the hatred of himself； could he
act wholely； without cynicism and unreality。
His real mistress was the machine； and the real mistress of
Winifred was the machine。 She too； Winifred； worshipped the
impure abstraction； the mechanisms of matter。 There； there； in
the machine； in service of the machine； was she free from the
clog and degradation of human feeling。 There； in the monstrous
mechanism that held all matter； living or dead； in its service；
did she achieve her consummation and her perfect unison； her
immortality。
Hatred sprang up in Ursula's heart。 If she could she would
smash the machine。 Her soul's action should be the smashing of
the great machine。 If she could destroy the colliery； and make
all the men of Wiggiston out of work； she would do it。 Let them
starve and grub in the earth for roots； rather than serve such a
Moloch as this。
She hated her Uncle Tom； she hated Winifred Inger。 They went
down to the summer…house for tea。 It was a pleasant place among
a few trees； at the end of a tiny garden； on the edge of a
field。 Her Uncle Tom and Winifred seemed to jeer at her； to
cheapen her。 She was miserable and desolate。 But she would never
give way。
Her coldness for Winifred should never cease。 She knew it was
over between them。 She saw gross； ugly movements in her
mistress； she saw a clayey； inert； unquickened flesh； that
reminded her of the great prehistoric lizards。 One day her Uncle
Tom came in out of the broiling sunshine heated from walking。
Then the perspiration stood out upon his head and brow； his hand
was wet and hot and suffocating in its clasp。 He too had
something marshy about him……the succulent moistness and
turgidity； and the same brackish； nauseating effect of a marsh；
where life and decaying are one。
He was repellent to her； who was so dry and fine in her fire。
Her very bones seemed to bid him keep his distance from her。
It was in these weeks that Ursula grew up。 She stayed two
weeks at Wiggiston； and she hated it。 All was grey； dry ash；
cold and dead and ugly。 But she stayed。 She stayed also to get
rid of Winifred。 The girl's hatred and her sense of
repulsiveness in her mistress and in her uncle seemed to throw
the other two together。 They drew together as if against
her。
In hardness and bitterness of soul； Ursula knew that Winifred
was bee her uncle's lover。 She was glad。 She had loved them
both。 Now she wanted to be rid of them both。 Their marshy；
bitter…sweet corruption came sick and unwholesome in her
nostrils。 Anything； to get out of the foetid air。 She would
leave them both for ever； leave for ever their strange； soft；
half…corrupt element。 Anything to get away。
One night Winifred came all burning into Ursula's bed； and
put her arms round the girl； holding her to herself in spite of
unwillingness； and said；
〃Dear； my dear……shall I marry Mr。 Brangwen……shall
I？〃
The clinging； heavy； muddy question weighed on Ursula
intolerably。
〃Has he asked you？〃 she said； using all her might of hard
resistance。
〃He's asked me；〃 said Winifred。 〃Do you want me to marry him；
Ursula？〃
〃Yes；〃 said Ursula。
The arms tightened more on her。
〃I knew you did； my sweet……and I will marry him。 You're
fond of him； aren't you？〃
〃I've been awfully fond of him……ever since I was
a child。〃
〃I know……I know。 I can see what you like in him。 He is a
man by himself； he has something apart from the rest。〃
〃Yes；〃 said Ursula。
〃But he's not like you； my dear……ha； he's not as good as
you。 There's something even objectionable in him……his thick
thighs……〃
Ursula was silent。
〃But I'll marry him； my dear……it will be best。 Now say
you love me。〃
A sort of profession was extorted out of the girl。
Nevertheless her mistress went away sighing； to weep in her own
chamber。
In two days' time Ursula left Wiggiston。 Miss Inger went to
Nottingham。 There was an engagement between her and Tom
Brangwen； which the uncle seemed to vaunt as if it were an
assurance of his validity。
Brangwen and Winifred Inger continued engaged for another
term。 Then they married。 Brangwen had reached the age when he
wanted children。 He wanted children。 Neither marriage nor the
domestic establishment meant anything to him。 He wanted to
propagate himself。 He knew what he was doing。 He had the
instinct of a growing inertia； of a thing that chooses its place
of rest in which to lapse into apathy； plete； profound
indifference。 He would let the machinery carry him； husband；
father； pit…manager； warm clay lifted through the recurrent
action of day after day by the great machine from which it
derived its motion。 As for Winifred； she was an educated woman；
and of the same sort as himself。 She would make a good
panion。 She was his mate。
CHAPTER XIII
THE MAN'S WORLD
Ursula came back to Cossethay to fight with her mother。 Her
schooldays were over。 She had passed the matriculation
examination。 Now she came home to face that empty period between
school and possible marriage。
At first she thought it would be just like holidays all the
time； she would feel just free。 Her soul was in chaos； blinded
suffering； maimed。 She had no will left to think about herself。
For a time she must just lapse。
But very shortly she found herself up against her mother。 Her
mother had； at this time； the power to irritate and madden the
girl continuously。 There were already seven children； yet Mrs。
Brangwen was again with child； the ninth she had borne。 One had
died of diphtheria in infancy。
Even this fact of her mother's pregnancy enraged the eldest
girl。 Mrs。 Brangwen was so placent； so utterly fulfilled in
her breeding。 She would not have the existence at all of
anything but the immediate； physical； mon things。 Ursula
inflamed in soul； was suffering all the anguish of youth's
reaching for some unknown ordeal； that it can't grasp； can't
even distinguish or conceive。 Maddened； she was fighting all the
darkness she was up against。 And part of this darkness was her
mother。 To limit； as her mother did； everything to the ring of
physical considerations； and placently to reject the reality
of anything else； was horrible。 Not a thing did Mrs。 Brangwen
care about； but the children； the house； and a little local
gossip。 And she would not be touched； she would let
nothing else live near her。 She went about； big with child；
slovenly； easy； having a certain lax dignity； taking her own
time； pleasing herself； always； always doing things for the
children； and feeling that she thereby fulfilled the whole of
womanhood。
This long trance of placent child…bearing had kept her
young and undeveloped。 She was scarcely a day older than when
Gudrun was born。 All these years nothing had happened save the
ing of the children；