Любовник леди Чаттерлей

           Ameansortoflife!Andnoprospect!ShealmostwishedshehadgoneoffwithMick,andmadeherlifeonelongcocktailparty,andjazzevening.Anyhowthatwasbetterthanjustmooningyourselfintothegrave.

           Ononeofherbaddaysshewentoutalonetowalkinthewood,ponderously,heedingnothing,notevennoticingwhereshewas.Thereportofagunnotfaroffstartledandangeredher.

           Then,asshewent,sheheardvoices,andrecoiled.People!Shedidn’twantpeople.Butherquickearcaughtanothersound,andsheroused;itwasachildsobbing.Atoncesheattended;someonewasill-treatingachild.Shestrodeswingingdownthewetdrive,hersullenresentmentuppermost.Shefeltjustpreparedtomakeascene.

           Turningthecorner,shesawtwofiguresinthedrivebeyondher:thekeeper,andalittlegirlinapurplecoatandmoleskincap,crying.

           ’Ah,shutitup,thafalselittlebitch!’cametheman’sangryvoice,andthechildsobbedlouder.

           Constancestrodenearer,withblazingeyes.Themanturnedandlookedather,salutingcoolly,buthewaspalewithanger.

           ’What’sthematter?Whyisshecrying?’demandedConstance,peremptorybutalittlebreathless.

           Afaintsmilelikeasneercameontheman’sface.’Nay,yomunax’er,’herepliedcallously,inbroadvernacular.

           Conniefeltasifhehadhitherintheface,andshechangedcolour.Thenshegatheredherdefiance,andlookedathim,herdarkblueeyesblazingrathervaguely.

           ’Iaskedyou,’shepanted.

           Hegaveaqueerlittlebow,liftinghishat.