Любовник леди Чаттерлей

           Herthighs,too,theyusedtolooksoquickandglimpsyintheirfemaleroundness,somehowtheytooweregoingflat,slack,meaningless.

           Herbodywasgoingmeaningless,goingdullandopaque,somuchinsignificantsubstance.Itmadeherfeelimmenselydepressedandhopeless.Whathopewasthere?Shewasold,oldattwenty-seven,withnogleamandsparkleintheflesh.Oldthroughneglectanddenial,yes,denial.Fashionablewomenkepttheirbodiesbrightlikedelicateporcelain,byexternalattention.Therewasnothinginsidetheporcelain;butshewasnotevenasbrightasthat.Thementallife!Suddenlyshehateditwitharushingfury,theswindle!

           Shelookedintheothermirror’sreflectionatherback,herwaist,herloins.Shewasgettingthinner,buttoheritwasnotbecoming.Thecrumpleofherwaistattheback,asshebentbacktolook,wasalittleweary;anditusedtobesogay-looking.Andthelongishslopeofherhaunchesandherbuttockshadlostitsgleamanditssenseofrichness.Gone!OnlytheGermanboyhadlovedit,andhewastenyearsdead,verynearly.Howtimewentby!Tenyearsdead,andshewasonlytwenty-seven.Thehealthyboywithhisfresh,clumsysensualitythatshehadthenbeensoscornfulof!Wherewouldshefinditnow?Itwasgoneoutofmen.Theyhadtheirpathetic,two-secondsspasmslikeMichaelis;butnohealthyhumansensuality,thatwarmsthebloodandfreshensthewholebeing.

           Stillshethoughtthemostbeautifulpartofherwasthelong-slopingfallofthehaunchesfromthesocketoftheback,andtheslumberous,roundstillnessofthebuttocks.