Любовник леди Чаттерлей
Chapter 7
Onlyshebegantobeafraidoftheghastlywhitetombstones,thatpeculiarloathsomewhitenessofCarraramarble,detestableasfalseteeth,whichstuckuponthehillside,underTevershallchurch,andwhichshesawwithsuchgrimpainfulnessfromthepark.Thebristlingofthehideousfalseteethoftombstonesonthehillaffectedherwithagrislykindofhorror.Shefeltthetimenotfaroffwhenshewouldbeburiedthere,addedtotheghastlyhostunderthetombstonesandthemonuments,inthesefilthyMidlands.
Sheneededhelp,andsheknewit:soshewrotealittlecriducoeurtohersister,Hilda.’I’mnotwelllately,andIdon’tknowwhat’sthematterwithme.’
DownpostedHildafromScotland,whereshehadtakenupherabode.ShecameinMarch,alone,drivingherselfinanimbletwo-seater.Upthedriveshecame,tootinguptheincline,thensweepingroundtheovalofgrass,wherethetwogreatwildbeech-treesstood,ontheflatinfrontofthehouse.
Conniehadrunouttothesteps.Hildapulleduphercar,gotout,andkissedhersister.
’ButConnie!’shecried.’Whateveristhematter?’
’Nothing!’saidConnie,rathershamefacedly;butsheknewhowshehadsufferedincontrasttoHilda.Bothsistershadthesamerathergolden,glowingskin,andsoftbrownhair,andnaturallystrong,warmphysique.ButnowConniewasthinandearthy-looking,withascraggy,yellowishneck,thatstuckoutofherjumper.
’Butyou’reill,child!’saidHilda,inthesoft,ratherbreathlessvoicethatbothsistershadalike.Hildawasnearly,butnotquite,twoyearsolderthanConnie.
’No,notill.
