Любовник леди Чаттерлей

           Howshehatedwords,alwayscomingbetweenherandlife:theydidtheravishing,ifanythingdid:ready-madewordsandphrases,suckingallthelife-sapoutoflivingthings.

           ThewalkwithCliffordwasnotquiteasuccess.BetweenhimandConnietherewasatensionthateachpretendednottonotice,butthereitwas.Suddenly,withalltheforceofherfemaleinstinct,shewasshovinghimoff.Shewantedtobeclearofhim,andespeciallyofhisconsciousness,hiswords,hisobsessionwithhimself,hisendlesstreadmillobsessionwithhimself,andhisownwords.

           Theweathercamerainyagain.Butafteradayortwoshewentoutintherain,andshewenttothewood.Andoncethere,shewenttowardsthehut.Itwasraining,butnotsocold,andthewoodfeltsosilentandremote,inaccessibleintheduskofrain.

           Shecametotheclearing.Noonethere!Thehutwaslocked.Butshesatonthelogdoorstep,undertherusticporch,andsnuggledintoherownwarmth.Soshesat,lookingattherain,listeningtothemanynoiselessnoisesofit,andtothestrangesoughingsofwindinupperbranches,whenthereseemedtobenowind.Oldoak-treesstoodaround,grey,powerfultrunks,rain-blackened,roundandvital,throwingoffrecklesslimbs.Thegroundwasfairlyfreeofundergrowth,theanemonessprinkled,therewasabushortwo,elder,orguelder-rose,andapurplishtangleofbramble:theoldrussetofbrackenalmostvanishedundergreenanemoneruffs.Perhapsthiswasoneoftheunravishedplaces.Unravished!Thewholeworldwasravished.

           Somethingscan’tberavished.Youcan’travishatinofsardines.