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- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
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- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
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- Стр. 15/388
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He
sent
a
servant
to
ask
,
could
he
be
of
any
service
to
Lady
Chatterley
:
he
thought
of
driving
into
Sheffield
.
The
answer
came
,
would
he
care
to
go
up
to
Lady
Chatterley
’
s
sitting
-
room
.
Connie
had
a
sitting
-
room
on
the
third
floor
,
the
top
floor
of
the
central
portion
of
the
house
.
Clifford
’
s
rooms
were
on
the
ground
floor
,
of
course
.
Michaelis
was
flattered
by
being
asked
up
to
Lady
Chatterley
’
s
own
parlour
.
He
followed
blindly
after
the
servant
.
.
.
he
never
noticed
things
,
or
had
contact
with
his
surroundings
.
In
her
room
he
did
glance
vaguely
round
at
the
fine
German
reproductions
of
Renoir
and
Cezanne
.
’
It
’
s
very
pleasant
up
here
,
’
he
said
,
with
his
queer
smile
,
as
if
it
hurt
him
to
smile
,
showing
his
teeth
.
’
You
are
wise
to
get
up
to
the
top
.
’
’
Yes
,
I
think
so
,
’
she
said
.
Her
room
was
the
only
gay
,
modern
one
in
the
house
,
the
only
spot
in
Wragby
where
her
personality
was
at
all
revealed
.
Clifford
had
never
seen
it
,
and
she
asked
very
few
people
up
.
Now
she
and
Michaelis
sit
on
opposite
sides
of
the
fire
and
talked
.
She
asked
him
about
himself
,
his
mother
and
father
,
his
brothers
.
.
.
other
people
were
always
something
of
a
wonder
to
her
,
and
when
her
sympathy
was
awakened
she
was
quite
devoid
of
class
feeling
.
Michaelis
talked
frankly
about
himself
,
quite
frankly
,
without
affectation
,
simply
revealing
his
bitter
,
indifferent
,
stray
-
dog
’
s
soul
,
then
showing
a
gleam
of
revengeful
pride
in
his
success
.
’
But
why
are
you
such
a
lonely
bird
?
’
Connie
asked
him
;
and
again
he
looked
at
her
,
with
his
full
,
searching
,
hazel
look
.
’
Some
birds
are
that
way
,
’
he
replied
.
Then
,
with
a
touch
of
familiar
irony
:
’
but
,
look
here
,
what
about
yourself
?
Aren
’
t
you
by
way
of
being
a
lonely
bird
yourself
?
’
Connie
,
a
little
startled
,
thought
about
it
for
a
few
moments
,
and
then
she
said
:
’
Only
in
a
way
!
Not
altogether
,
like
you
!
’
’
Am
I
altogether
a
lonely
bird
?
’
he
asked
,
with
his
queer
grin
of
a
smile
,
as
if
he
had
toothache
;
it
was
so
wry
,
and
his
eyes
were
so
perfectly
unchangingly
melancholy
,
or
stoical
,
or
disillusioned
or
afraid
.
