Любовник леди Чаттерлей
Chapter 12
’Comein!’
Thesunshoneintothebareroom,whichstillsmelledofamuttonchop,doneinadutchovenbeforethefire,becausethedutchovenstillstoodonthefender,withtheblackpotato-saucepanonapieceofpaper,besideitonthewhitehearth.Thefirewasred,ratherlow,thebardropped,thekettlesinging.
Onthetablewashisplate,withpotatoesandtheremainsofthechop;alsobreadinabasket,salt,andabluemugwithbeer.Thetable-clothwaswhiteoil-cloth,hestoodintheshade.
’Youareverylate,’shesaid.’Dogooneating!’
Shesatdownonawoodenchair,inthesunlightbythedoor.
’IhadtogotoUthwaite,’hesaid,sittingdownatthetablebutnoteating.
’Doeat,’shesaid.Buthedidnottouchthefood.
’Shally’avesomething?’heaskedher.’Shally’aveacupoftea?t’kettle’sont’boil’--hehalfroseagainfromhischair.
’Ifyou’llletmemakeitmyself,’shesaid,rising.Heseemedsad,andshefeltshewasbotheringhim.
’Well,tea-pot’sinthere’--hepointedtoalittle,drabcornercupboard;’an’cups.An’tea’sont’manteloweryer’ead,’
Shegottheblacktea-pot,andthetinofteafromthemantel-shelf.Sherinsedthetea-potwithhotwater,andstoodamomentwonderingwheretoemptyit.
’Throwitout,’hesaid,awareofher.’It’sclean.’
Shewenttothedoorandthrewthedropofwaterdownthepath.Howlovelyitwashere,sostill,soreallywoodland.Theoakswereputtingoutochreyellowleaves:inthegardenthereddaisieswerelikeredplushbuttons.
