Любовник леди Чаттерлей

           ’Notsovery,’hereplied.

           TheybothwaitedforHildatogetout.ButHildashutthedoorofthecarandsattight.

           ’ThisismysisterHilda.Won’tyoucomeandspeaktoher?Hilda!ThisisMrMellors.’

           Thekeeperliftedhishat,butwentnonearer.

           ’Dowalkdowntothecottagewithus,Hilda,’Conniepleaded.’It’snotfar.’

           ’Whataboutthecar?’

           ’Peopledoleavethemonthelanes.Youhavethekey.’

           Hildawassilent,deliberating.Thenshelookedbackwardsdownthelane.

           ’CanIbackroundthebush?’shesaid.

           ’Ohyes!’saidthekeeper.

           Shebackedslowlyroundthecurve,outofsightoftheroad,lockedthecar,andgotdown.Itwasnight,butluminousdark.Thehedgesrosehighandwild,bytheunusedlane,andverydarkseeming.Therewasafreshsweetscentontheair.Thekeeperwentahead,thencameConnie,thenHilda,andinsilence.Helitupthedifficultplaceswithaflash-lighttorch,andtheywentonagain,whileanowlsoftlyhootedovertheoaks,andFlossiepaddedsilentlyaround.Nobodycouldspeak.Therewasnothingtosay.

           AtlengthConniesawtheyellowlightofthehouse,andherheartbeatfast.Shewasalittlefrightened.Theytrailedon,stillinIndianfile.

           Heunlockedthedoorandprecededthemintothewarmbutbarelittleroom.Thefireburnedlowandredinthegrate.Thetablewassetwithtwoplatesandtwoglassesonaproperwhitetable-clothforonce.Hildashookherhairandlookedroundthebare,cheerlessroom.Thenshesummonedhercourageandlookedattheman.

           Hewasmoderatelytall,andthin,andshethoughthimgood-looking.