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- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
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- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
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- Стр. 199/388
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’
Ah
,
don
’
t
talk
like
a
woman
!
The
industry
fills
their
bellies
,
even
if
it
can
’
t
keep
their
pockets
quite
so
flush
,
’
he
said
,
using
turns
of
speech
that
oddly
had
a
twang
of
Mrs
Bolton
.
’
But
didn
’
t
you
say
the
other
day
that
you
were
a
conservative
-
anarchist
,
’
she
asked
innocently
.
’
And
did
you
understand
what
I
meant
?
’
he
retorted
.
’
All
I
meant
is
,
people
can
be
what
they
like
and
feel
what
they
like
and
do
what
they
like
,
strictly
privately
,
so
long
as
they
keep
the
form
of
life
intact
,
and
the
apparatus
.
’
Connie
walked
on
in
silence
a
few
paces
.
Then
she
said
,
obstinately
:
’
It
sounds
like
saying
an
egg
may
go
as
addled
as
it
likes
,
so
long
as
it
keeps
its
shell
on
whole
.
But
addled
eggs
do
break
of
themselves
.
’
’
I
don
’
t
think
people
are
eggs
,
’
he
said
.
’
Not
even
angels
’
eggs
,
my
dear
little
evangelist
.
’
He
was
in
rather
high
feather
this
bright
morning
.
The
larks
were
trilling
away
over
the
park
,
the
distant
pit
in
the
hollow
was
fuming
silent
steam
.
It
was
almost
like
old
days
,
before
the
war
.
Connie
didn
’
t
really
want
to
argue
.
But
then
she
did
not
really
want
to
go
to
the
wood
with
Clifford
either
.
So
she
walked
beside
his
chair
in
a
certain
obstinacy
of
spirit
.
’
No
,
’
he
said
.
’
There
will
be
no
more
strikes
,
if
the
thing
is
properly
managed
.
’
’
Why
not
?
’
’
Because
strikes
will
be
made
as
good
as
impossible
.
