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- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
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- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
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- Стр. 215/388
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But
the
keeper
had
got
the
chair
by
the
rail
.
Clifford
,
however
,
putting
on
all
his
pressure
,
managed
to
steer
into
the
riding
,
and
with
a
strange
noise
the
chair
was
fighting
the
hill
.
Mellors
pushed
steadily
behind
,
and
up
she
went
,
as
if
to
retrieve
herself
.
’
You
see
,
she
’
s
doing
it
!
’
said
Clifford
,
victorious
,
glancing
over
his
shoulder
.
There
he
saw
the
keeper
’
s
face
.
’
Are
you
pushing
her
?
’
’
She
won
’
t
do
it
without
.
’
’
Leave
her
alone
.
I
asked
you
not
.
’
She
won
’
t
do
it
.
’
’
Let
her
try
!
’
snarled
Clifford
,
with
all
his
emphasis
.
The
keeper
stood
back
:
then
turned
to
fetch
his
coat
and
gun
.
The
chair
seemed
to
strangle
immediately
.
She
stood
inert
.
Clifford
,
seated
a
prisoner
,
was
white
with
vexation
.
He
jerked
at
the
levers
with
his
hand
,
his
feet
were
no
good
.
He
got
queer
noises
out
of
her
.
In
savage
impatience
he
moved
little
handles
and
got
more
noises
out
of
her
.
But
she
would
not
budge
.
No
,
she
would
not
budge
.
He
stopped
the
engine
and
sat
rigid
with
anger
.
Constance
sat
on
the
bank
and
looked
at
the
wretched
and
trampled
bluebells
.
’
Nothing
quite
so
lovely
as
an
English
spring
.
’
’
I
can
do
my
share
of
ruling
.
’
’
What
we
need
to
take
up
now
is
whips
,
not
swords
.
’
’
The
ruling
classes
!
’
