Любовник леди Чаттерлей

           LessrealthantheawfulWragby!Shefeltshedidn’tcareifsheneversawFranceorSwitzerlandorItalyagain.They’dkeep.Wragbywasmorereal.

           Asforpeople!peoplewereallalike,withverylittledifference.Theyallwantedtogetmoneyoutofyou:or,iftheyweretravellers,theywantedtogetenjoyment,perforce,likesqueezingbloodoutofastone.Poormountains!poorlandscape!itallhadtobesqueezedandsqueezedandsqueezedagain,toprovideathrill,toprovideenjoyment.Whatdidpeoplemean,withtheirsimplydeterminedenjoyingofthemselves?

           No!saidConnietoherselfI’dratherbeatWragby,whereIcangoaboutandbestill,andnotstareatanythingordoanyperformingofanysort.Thistouristperformanceofenjoyingoneselfistoohopelesslyhumiliating:it’ssuchafailure.

           ShewantedtogobacktoWragby,eventoClifford,eventopoorcrippledClifford.Hewasn’tsuchafoolasthisswarmingholidayinglot,anyhow.

           Butinherinnerconsciousnessshewaskeepingtouchwiththeotherman.Shemustn’tletherconnexionwithhimgo:oh,shemustn’tletitgo,orshewaslost,lostutterlyinthisworldofriff-raffyexpensivepeopleandjoy-hogs.Oh,thejoy-hogs!Oh’enjoyingoneself’!Anothermodernformofsickness.

           TheyleftthecarinMestre,inagarage,andtooktheregularsteamerovertoVenice.Itwasalovelysummerafternoon,theshallowlagoonrippled,thefullsunshinemadeVenice,turningitsbacktothemacrossthewater,lookdim.

           Atthestationquaytheychangedtoagondola,givingthemantheaddress.