Любовник леди Чаттерлей

           Hetwistedroundagainandlookedattheenlargedphotograph.Itwasframedinabrown-and-giltframe,hideous.Itshowedaclean-shaven,alert,veryyoung-lookingmaninaratherhighcollar,andasomewhatplump,boldyoungwomanwithhairfluffedoutandcrimped,andwearingadarksatinblouse.

           ’Itwouldn’tbeabadidea,wouldit?’hesaid.

           Hehadpulledoffhisboots,andputonapairofslippers.Hestooduponthechair,andlifteddownthephotograph.Itleftabigpaleplaceonthegreenishwall-paper.

           ’Nousedustingitnow,’hesaid,settingthethingagainstthewall.

           Hewenttothescullery,andreturnedwithhammerandpincers.Sittingwherehehadsatbefore,hestartedtotearofftheback-paperfromthebigframe,andtopulloutthesprigsthatheldthebackboardinposition,workingwiththeimmediatequietabsorptionthatwascharacteristicofhim.

           Hesoonhadthenailsout:thenhepulledoutthebackboards,thentheenlargementitself,initssolidwhitemount.Helookedatthephotographwithamusement.

           ’ShowsmeforwhatIwas,ayoungcurate,andherforwhatshewas,abully,’hesaid.’Theprigandthebully!’

           ’Letmelook!’saidConnie.

           Hedidlookindeedveryclean-shavenandverycleanaltogether,oneofthecleanyoungmenoftwentyyearsago.Buteveninthephotographhiseyeswerealertanddauntless.Andthewomanwasnotaltogetherabully,thoughherjowlwasheavy.Therewasatouchofappealinher.

           ’Onenevershouldkeepthesethings,’saidConnie.