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- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
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- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
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- Стр. 175/388
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Connie
glanced
at
the
handsome
,
brooding
face
in
fear
.
Another
passionate
one
out
of
Tevershall
!
The
touch
of
him
!
For
the
bonds
of
love
are
ill
to
loose
!
’
It
’
s
terrible
,
once
you
’
ve
got
a
man
into
your
blood
!
’
she
said
.
’
Oh
,
my
Lady
!
And
that
’
s
what
makes
you
feel
so
bitter
.
You
feel
folks
wanted
him
killed
.
You
feel
the
pit
fair
wanted
to
kill
him
.
Oh
,
I
felt
,
if
it
hadn
’
t
been
for
the
pit
,
an
’
them
as
runs
the
pit
,
there
’
d
have
been
no
leaving
me
But
they
all
want
to
separate
a
woman
and
a
man
,
if
they
’
re
together
.
’
’
If
they
’
re
physically
together
,
’
said
Connie
.
’
That
’
s
right
,
my
Lady
!
There
’
s
a
lot
of
hard
-
hearted
folks
in
the
world
.
And
every
morning
when
he
got
up
and
went
to
th
’
pit
,
I
felt
it
was
wrong
,
wrong
.
But
what
else
could
he
do
?
What
can
a
man
do
?
’
A
queer
hate
flared
in
the
woman
.
’
But
can
a
touch
last
so
long
?
’
Connie
asked
suddenly
.
’
That
you
could
feel
him
so
long
?
’
’
Oh
my
Lady
,
what
else
is
there
to
last
?
Children
grows
away
from
you
.
But
the
man
,
well
!
But
even
that
they
’
d
like
to
kill
in
you
,
the
very
thought
of
the
touch
of
him
.
Even
your
own
children
!
Ah
well
!
We
might
have
drifted
apart
,
who
knows
.
But
the
feeling
’
s
something
different
.
It
’
s
’
appen
better
never
to
care
.
But
there
,
when
I
look
at
women
who
’
s
never
really
been
warmed
through
by
a
man
,
well
,
they
seem
to
me
poor
doolowls
after
all
,
no
matter
how
they
may
dress
up
and
gad
.
No
,
I
’
ll
abide
by
my
own
.
I
’
ve
not
much
respect
for
people
.
’
Connie
went
to
the
wood
directly
after
lunch
.
It
was
really
a
lovely
day
,
the
first
dandelions
making
suns
,
the
first
daisies
so
white
.
The
hazel
thicket
was
a
lace
-
work
,
of
half
-
open
leaves
,
and
the
last
dusty
perpendicular
of
the
catkins
.
Yellow
celandines
now
were
in
crowds
,
flat
open
,
pressed
back
in
urgency
,
and
the
yellow
glitter
of
themselves
.
It
was
the
yellow
,
the
powerful
yellow
of
early
summer
.
And
primroses
were
broad
,
and
full
of
pale
abandon
,
thick
-
clustered
primroses
no
longer
shy
.
The
lush
,
dark
green
of
hyacinths
was
a
sea
,
with
buds
rising
like
pale
corn
,
while
in
the
riding
the
forget
-
me
-
nots
were
fluffing
up
,
and
columbines
were
unfolding
their
ink
-
purple
ruches
,
and
there
were
bits
of
blue
bird
’
s
eggshell
under
a
bush
.
Everywhere
the
bud
-
knots
and
the
leap
of
life
!
The
keeper
was
not
at
the
hut
.
Everything
was
serene
,
brown
chickens
running
lustily
.
Connie
walked
on
towards
the
cottage
,
because
she
wanted
to
find
him
.
