87/105 But whether it is finished, God knows. I want love that is like sleep, like being born again, vulnerable as a baby that just comes into the world.' Ursula listened, half attentive, half avoiding what he said. She seemed to catch the drift of his statement, and then she drew away. She wanted to hear, but she did not want to be implicated. She was reluctant to yield there, where he wanted her, to yield as it were her very identity. |