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- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
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- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
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- Стр. 17/388
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She
was
utterly
incapable
of
resisting
it
.
From
her
breast
flowed
the
answering
,
immense
yearning
over
him
;
she
must
give
him
anything
,
anything
.
He
was
a
curious
and
very
gentle
lover
,
very
gentle
with
the
woman
,
trembling
uncontrollably
,
and
yet
at
the
same
time
detached
,
aware
,
aware
of
every
sound
outside
.
To
her
it
meant
nothing
except
that
she
gave
herself
to
him
.
And
at
length
he
ceased
to
quiver
any
more
,
and
lay
quite
still
,
quite
still
.
Then
,
with
dim
,
compassionate
fingers
,
she
stroked
his
head
,
that
lay
on
her
breast
.
When
he
rose
,
he
kissed
both
her
hands
,
then
both
her
feet
,
in
their
suede
slippers
,
and
in
silence
went
away
to
the
end
of
the
room
,
where
he
stood
with
his
back
to
her
.
There
was
silence
for
some
minutes
.
Then
he
turned
and
came
to
her
again
as
she
sat
in
her
old
place
by
the
fire
.
’
And
now
,
I
suppose
you
’
ll
hate
me
!
’
he
said
in
a
quiet
,
inevitable
way
.
She
looked
up
at
him
quickly
.
’
Why
should
I
?
’
she
asked
.
’
They
mostly
do
,
’
he
said
;
then
he
caught
himself
up
.
’
I
mean
.
.
.
a
woman
is
supposed
to
.
’
’
This
is
the
last
moment
when
I
ought
to
hate
you
,
’
she
said
resentfully
.
’
I
know
!
I
know
!
It
should
be
so
!
You
’
re
frightfully
good
to
me
.
.
.
’
he
cried
miserably
.
She
wondered
why
he
should
be
miserable
.
’
Won
’
t
you
sit
down
again
?
’
she
said
.
He
glanced
at
the
door
.
