Любовник леди Чаттерлей

           Theslimlittlechickwasgreyishbrownwithdarkmarkings,anditwasthemostalivelittlesparkofacreatureinsevenkingdomsatthatmoment.Conniecrouchedtowatchinasortofecstasy.Life,life!pure,sparky,fearlessnewlife!Newlife!Sotinyandsoutterlywithoutfear!Evenwhenitscamperedalittle,scramblingintothecoopagain,anddisappearedunderthehen’sfeathersinanswertothemotherhen’swildalarm-cries,itwasnotreallyfrightened,ittookitasagame,thegameofliving.Forinamomentatinysharpheadwaspokingthroughthegold-brownfeathersofthehen,andeyeingtheCosmos.

           Conniewasfascinated.Andatthesametime,neverhadshefeltsoacutelytheagonyofherownfemaleforlornness.Itwasbecomingunbearable.

           Shehadonlyonedesirenow,togototheclearinginthewood.Therestwasakindofpainfuldream.ButsometimesshewaskeptalldayatWragby,byherdutiesashostess.Andthenshefeltasifshetooweregoingblank,justblankandinsane.

           Oneevening,guestsornoguests,sheescapedaftertea.Itwaslate,andshefledacrosstheparklikeonewhofearstobecalledback.Thesunwassettingrosyassheenteredthewood,butshepressedonamongtheflowers.Thelightwouldlastlongoverhead.

           Shearrivedattheclearingflushedandsemi-conscious.Thekeeperwasthere,inhisshirt-sleeves,justclosingupthecoopsforthenight,sothelittleoccupantswouldbesafe.Butstillonelittletriowaspatteringaboutontinyfeet,alertdrabmites,underthestrawshelter,refusingtobecalledinbytheanxiousmother.