He watched her all the while, as she rowed.

And to Gudrun it was a real delight, in make-belief, to be the childlike, clinging woman to the man who stood there on the quay, so good-looking and efficient in his white clothes, and moreover the most important man she knew at the moment.
She did not take any notice of the wavering, indistinct, lambent Birkin, who stood at his side.

One figure at a time occupied the field of her attention.
The boat rustled lightly along the water.

They passed the bathers whose striped tents stood between the willows of the meadow's edge, and drew along the open shore, past the meadows that sloped golden in the light of the already late afternoon.

Other boats were stealing under the wooded shore opposite, they could hear people's laughter and voices.
But Gudrun rowed on towards the clump of trees that balanced perfect in the distance, in the golden light.
The sisters found a little place where a tiny stream flowed into the lake, with reeds and flowery marsh of pink willow herb, and a gravelly bank to the side.