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- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
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- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
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- Стр. 157/388
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But
oh
my
dear
!
Mrs
Bolton
was
thinking
to
herself
.
Is
it
Oliver
Mellors
’
child
you
’
re
preparing
us
for
?
Oh
my
dear
,
that
would
be
a
Tevershall
baby
in
the
Wragby
cradle
,
my
word
!
Wouldn
’
t
shame
it
,
neither
!
Among
other
monstrosities
in
this
lumber
room
was
a
largish
blackjapanned
box
,
excellently
and
ingeniously
made
some
sixty
or
seventy
years
ago
,
and
fitted
with
every
imaginable
object
.
On
top
was
a
concentrated
toilet
set
:
brushes
,
bottles
,
mirrors
,
combs
,
boxes
,
even
three
beautiful
little
razors
in
safety
sheaths
,
shaving
-
bowl
and
all
.
Underneath
came
a
sort
of
escritoire
outfit
:
blotters
,
pens
,
ink
-
bottles
,
paper
,
envelopes
,
memorandum
books
:
and
then
a
perfect
sewing
-
outfit
,
with
three
different
sized
scissors
,
thimbles
,
needles
,
silks
and
cottons
,
darning
egg
,
all
of
the
very
best
quality
and
perfectly
finished
.
Then
there
was
a
little
medicine
store
,
with
bottles
labelled
Laudanum
,
Tincture
of
Myrrh
,
Ess
.
Cloves
and
so
on
:
but
empty
.
Everything
was
perfectly
new
,
and
the
whole
thing
,
when
shut
up
,
was
as
big
as
a
small
,
but
fat
weekend
bag
.
And
inside
,
it
fitted
together
like
a
puzzle
.
The
bottles
could
not
possibly
have
spilled
:
there
wasn
’
t
room
.
The
thing
was
wonderfully
made
and
contrived
,
excellent
craftsmanship
of
the
Victorian
order
.
But
somehow
it
was
monstrous
.
Some
Chatterley
must
even
have
felt
it
,
for
the
thing
had
never
been
used
.
It
had
a
peculiar
soullessness
.
Yet
Mrs
Bolton
was
thrilled
.
’
Look
what
beautiful
brushes
,
so
expensive
,
even
the
shaving
brushes
,
three
perfect
ones
!
No
!
and
those
scissors
!
They
’
re
the
best
that
money
could
buy
.
Oh
,
I
call
it
lovely
!
’
’
Do
you
?
’
said
Connie
.
’
Then
you
have
it
.
’
’
Oh
no
,
my
Lady
!
’
’
Of
course
!
It
will
only
lie
here
till
Doomsday
.
If
you
won
’
t
have
it
,
I
’
ll
send
it
to
the
Duchess
as
well
as
the
pictures
,
and
she
doesn
’
t
deserve
so
much
.
Do
have
it
!
’
’
Oh
,
your
Ladyship
!
Why
,
I
shall
never
be
able
to
thank
you
.
’
