Chapter 2

           ConnieandCliffordcamehometoWragbyintheautumnof1920.MissChatterley,stilldisgustedatherbrother’sdefection,haddepartedandwaslivinginalittleflatinLondon.

           Wragbywasalonglowoldhouseinbrownstone,begunaboutthemiddleoftheeighteenthcentury,andaddedonto,tillitwasawarrenofaplacewithoutmuchdistinction.Itstoodonaneminenceinaratherfineoldparkofoaktrees,butalas,onecouldseeintheneardistancethechimneyofTevershallpit,withitscloudsofsteamandsmoke,andonthedamp,hazydistanceofthehilltherawstraggleofTevershallvillage,avillagewhichbeganalmostattheparkgates,andtrailedinutterhopelessuglinessforalongandgruesomemile:houses,rowsofwretched,small,begrimed,brickhouses,withblackslateroofsforlids,sharpanglesandwilful,blankdreariness.

           ConniewasaccustomedtoKensingtonortheScotchhillsortheSussexdowns:thatwasherEngland.Withthestoicismoftheyoungshetookintheutter,soullessuglinessofthecoal-and-ironMidlandsataglance,andleftitatwhatitwas:unbelievableandnottobethoughtabout.FromtheratherdismalroomsatWragbysheheardtherattle-rattleofthescreensatthepit,thepuffofthewinding-engine,theclink-clinkofshuntingtrucks,andthehoarselittlewhistleofthecollierylocomotives.Tevershallpit-bankwasburning,hadbeenburningforyears,anditwouldcostthousandstoputitout.Soithadtoburn.Andwhenthewindwasthatway,whichwasoften,thehousewasfullofthestenchofthissulphurouscombustionoftheearth’sexcrement.