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- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
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- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
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- Стр. 177/388
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’
Do
eat
,
’
she
said
.
But
he
did
not
touch
the
food
.
’
Shall
y
’
ave
something
?
’
he
asked
her
.
’
Shall
y
’
ave
a
cup
of
tea
?
t
’
kettle
’
s
on
t
’
boil
’
-
-
he
half
rose
again
from
his
chair
.
’
If
you
’
ll
let
me
make
it
myself
,
’
she
said
,
rising
.
He
seemed
sad
,
and
she
felt
she
was
bothering
him
.
’
Well
,
tea
-
pot
’
s
in
there
’
-
-
he
pointed
to
a
little
,
drab
corner
cupboard
;
’
an
’
cups
.
An
’
tea
’
s
on
t
’
mantel
ower
yer
’
ead
,
’
She
got
the
black
tea
-
pot
,
and
the
tin
of
tea
from
the
mantel
-
shelf
.
She
rinsed
the
tea
-
pot
with
hot
water
,
and
stood
a
moment
wondering
where
to
empty
it
.
’
Throw
it
out
,
’
he
said
,
aware
of
her
.
’
It
’
s
clean
.
’
She
went
to
the
door
and
threw
the
drop
of
water
down
the
path
.
How
lovely
it
was
here
,
so
still
,
so
really
woodland
.
The
oaks
were
putting
out
ochre
yellow
leaves
:
in
the
garden
the
red
daisies
were
like
red
plush
buttons
.
She
glanced
at
the
big
,
hollow
sandstone
slab
of
the
threshold
,
now
crossed
by
so
few
feet
.
’
But
it
’
s
lovely
here
,
’
she
said
.
’
Such
a
beautiful
stillness
,
everything
alive
and
still
.
’
He
was
eating
again
,
rather
slowly
and
unwillingly
,
and
she
could
feel
he
was
discouraged
.
She
made
the
tea
in
silence
,
and
set
the
tea
-
pot
on
the
hob
,
as
she
knew
the
people
did
.
He
pushed
his
plate
aside
and
went
to
the
back
place
;
she
heard
a
latch
click
,
then
he
came
back
with
cheese
on
a
plate
,
and
butter
.
