'You only want us to know death.' 'You're quite right,' said the soft voice of Gerald, out of the dusk behind.
Birkin rose.

Gerald and Gudrun came up.

They all began to smoke, in the moments of silence.

One after another, Birkin lighted their cigarettes.
The match flickered in the twilight, and they were all smoking peacefully by the water-side.

The lake was dim, the light dying from off it, in the midst of the dark land.