'You don't care for going on a launch, then?' She was slow in answering, and then she spoke slowly.
'No,' she said. 'I can't say that I do.' Her colour was high, she
seemed angry about something.
'Un peu trop de monde,' said Ursula, explaining.
'Eh? TROP DE MONDE!' He laughed shortly. 'Yes there's a fair number of
'em.' Gudrun turned on him brilliantly.
'Have you ever been from Westminster Bridge to Richmond on one of the
Thames steamers?' she cried.
'No,' he said, 'I can't say I have.' 'Well, it's one of the most VILE experiences I've ever had.' She spoke
rapidly and excitedly, the colour high in her cheeks. 'There was
absolutely nowhere to sit down, nowhere, a man just above sang "Rocked
in the Cradle of the Deep" the WHOLE way; he was blind and he had a
small organ, one of those portable organs, and he expected money; so
you can imagine what THAT was like; there came a constant smell of
luncheon from below, and puffs of hot oily machinery; the journey took
hours and hours and hours; and for miles, literally for miles, dreadful
boys ran with us on the shore, in that AWFUL Thames mud, going in UP TO
THE WAIST--they had their trousers turned back, and they went up to
their hips in that indescribable Thames mud, their faces always turned
to us, and screaming, exactly like carrion creatures, screaming "'Ere
y'are sir, 'ere y'are sir, 'ere y'are sir," exactly like some foul
carrion objects, perfectly obscene; and paterfamilias on board,
laughing when the boys went right down in that awful mud, occasionally
throwing them a ha'penny. And if you'd seen the intent look on the
faces of these boys, and the way they darted in the filth when a coin
was flung--really, no vulture or jackal could dream of approaching
them, for foulness. I NEVER would go on a pleasure boat again--never.' Gerald watched her all the time she spoke, his eyes glittering with
faint rousedness. It was not so much what she said; it was she herself
who roused him, roused him with a small, vivid pricking.
'Of course,' he said, 'every civilised body is bound to have its
vermin.' 'Why?' cried Ursula. 'I don't have vermin.' 'And it's not that--it's the QUALITY of the whole thing--paterfamilias
laughing and thinking it sport, and throwing the ha'pennies, and
materfamilias spreading her fat little knees and eating, continually
eating--' replied Gudrun.
'Yes,' said Ursula. 'It isn't the boys so much who are vermin; it's the
people themselves, the whole body politic, as you call it.' Gerald laughed.