Любовник леди Чаттерлей

           Buthowcouldsheknowwhatshewouldfeelnextyear?Howcouldoneeverknow?HowcouldonesayYes?foryearsandyears?Thelittleyes,goneonabreath!Whyshouldonebepinneddownbythatbutterflyword?Ofcourseithadtoflutterawayandbegone,tobefollowedbyotheryes’sandno’s!Likethestrayingofbutterflies.

           ’Ithinkyou’reright,Clifford.AndasfarasIcanseeIagreewithyou.Onlylifemayturnquiteanewfaceonitall.’

           ’Butuntillifeturnsanewfaceonitall,youdoagree?’

           ’Ohyes!IthinkIdo,really.’

           Shewaswatchingabrownspanielthathadrunoutofaside-path,andwaslookingtowardsthemwithliftednose,makingasoft,fluffybark.Amanwithagunstrodeswiftly,softlyoutafterthedog,facingtheirwayasifabouttoattackthem;thenstoppedinstead,saluted,andwasturningdownhill.Itwasonlythenewgame-keeper,buthehadfrightenedConnie,heseemedtoemergewithsuchaswiftmenace.Thatwashowshehadseenhim,likethesuddenrushofathreatoutofnowhere.

           Hewasamanindarkgreenvelveteensandgaiters...theoldstyle,witharedfaceandredmoustacheanddistanteyes.Hewasgoingquicklydownhill.

           ’Mellors!’calledClifford.

           Themanfacedlightlyround,andsalutedwithaquicklittlegesture,asoldier!

           ’Willyouturnthechairroundandgetitstarted?Thatmakesiteasier,’saidClifford.

           Themanatonceslunghisgunoverhisshoulder,andcameforwardwiththesamecuriousswift,yetsoftmovements,asifkeepinginvisible.Hewasmoderatelytallandlean,andwassilent.