the town； with a childish； candid； uncanny face； as if it all
were strange to her。
The children； Ursula and Gudrun and Theresa went by the
garden gate on their way to school。 The grandmother would have
them call in each time they passed； she would have them e to
the Marsh for dinner。 She wanted children about her。
Of her sons； she was almost afraid。 She could see the sombre
passion and desire and dissatisfaction in them； and she wanted
not to see it any more。 Even Fred； with his blue eyes and his
heavy jaw； troubled her。 There was no peace。 He wanted
something； he wanted love； passion； and he could not find them。
But why must he trouble her？ Why must he e to her with his
seething and suffering and dissatisfactions？ She was too
old。
Tom was more restrained； reserved。 He kept his body very
still。 But he troubled her even more。 She could not but see the
black depths of disintegration in his eyes； the sudden glance
upon her； as if she could save him； as if he would reveal
himself。
And how could age save youth？ Youth must go to youth。 Always
the storm！ Could she not lie in peace； these years； in the
quiet； apart from life？ No； always the swell must heave upon her
and break against the barriers。 Always she must be embroiled in
the seethe and rage and passion； endless； endless； going on for
ever。 And she wanted to draw away。 She wanted at last her own
innocence and peace。 She did not want her sons to force upon her
any more the old brutal story of desire and offerings and deep；
deep…hidden rage of unsatisfied men against women。 She wanted to
be beyond it all； to know the peace and