Chapter 10

           Conniewasagooddealalonenow,fewerpeoplecametoWragby.Cliffordnolongerwantedthem.Hehadturnedagainsteventhecronies.Hewasqueer.Hepreferredtheradio,whichhehadinstalledatsomeexpense,withagooddealofsuccessatlast.HecouldsometimesgetMadridorFrankfurt,eventhereintheuneasyMidlands.

           Andhewouldsitaloneforhourslisteningtotheloudspeakerbellowingforth.ItamazedandstunnedConnie.Buttherehewouldsit,withablankentrancedexpressiononhisface,likeapersonlosinghismind,andlisten,orseemtolisten,totheunspeakablething.

           Washereallylistening?Orwasitasortofsoporifichetook,whilstsomethingelseworkedonunderneathinhim?Conniedidnowknow.Shefleduptoherroom,oroutofdoorstothewood.Akindofterrorfilledhersometimes,aterroroftheincipientinsanityofthewholecivilizedspecies.

           ButnowthatCliffordwasdriftingofftothisotherweirdnessofindustrialactivity,becomingalmostacreature,withahard,efficientshellofanexteriorandapulpyinterior,oneoftheamazingcrabsandlobstersofthemodern,industrialandfinancialworld,invertebratesofthecrustaceanorder,withshellsofsteel,likemachines,andinnerbodiesofsoftpulp,Connieherselfwasreallycompletelystranded.

           Shewasnotevenfree,forCliffordmusthaveherthere.Heseemedtohaveanervousterrorthatsheshouldleavehim.Thecuriouspulpypartofhim,theemotionalandhumanly-individualpart,dependedonherwithterror,likeachild,almostlikeanidiot.Shemustbethere,thereatWragby,aLadyChatterley,hiswife.