Любовник леди Чаттерлей

           Sittingwithhisheaddropped,helookedatthefoldsofherbodyinthefire-glow,andatthefleeceofsoftbrownhairthathungdowntoapointbetweenheropenthighs.Hereachedtothetablebehind,andtookupherbunchofflowers,stillsowetthatdropsofrainfellontoher.

           ’Flowersstopsoutofdoorsallweathers,’hesaid.’Theyhavenohouses.’

           ’Notevenahut!’shemurmured.

           Withquietfingershethreadedafewforget-me-notflowersinthefinebrownfleeceofthemoundofVenus.

           ’There!’hesaid.’There’sforget-me-notsintherightplace!’

           Shelookeddownatthemilkyoddlittleflowersamongthebrownmaiden-hairatthelowertipofherbody.

           ’Doesn’titlookpretty!’shesaid.

           ’Prettyaslife,’hereplied.

           Andhestuckapinkcampion-budamongthehair.

           ’There!That’smewhereyouwon’tforgetme!That’sMosesinthebull-rushes.’

           ’Youdon’tmind,doyou,thatI’mgoingaway?’sheaskedwistfully,lookingupintohisface.

           Buthisfacewasinscrutable,undertheheavybrows.Hekeptitquiteblank.

           ’Youdoasyouwish,’hesaid.

           AndhespokeingoodEnglish.

           ’ButIwon’tgoifyoudon’twishit,’shesaid,clingingtohim.

           Therewassilence.Heleanedandputanotherpieceofwoodonthefire.Theflameglowedonhissilent,abstractedface.Shewaited,buthesaidnothing.

           ’OnlyIthoughtitwouldbeagoodwaytobeginabreakwithClifford.Idowantachild.Anditwouldgivemeachanceto,to--,’sheresumed.

           ’Toletthemthinkafewlies,’hesaid.

           ’Yes,thatamongotherthings.