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- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
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- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
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- Стр. 217/388
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The
chair
began
slowly
to
run
backwards
.
’
Clifford
,
your
brake
!
’
cried
Connie
.
She
,
Mellors
,
and
Clifford
moved
at
once
,
Connie
and
the
keeper
jostling
lightly
.
The
chair
stood
.
There
was
a
moment
of
dead
silence
.
’
It
’
s
obvious
I
’
m
at
everybody
’
s
mercy
!
’
said
Clifford
.
He
was
yellow
with
anger
.
No
one
answered
.
Mellors
was
slinging
his
gun
over
his
shoulder
,
his
face
queer
and
expressionless
,
save
for
an
abstracted
look
of
patience
.
The
dog
Flossie
,
standing
on
guard
almost
between
her
master
’
s
legs
,
moved
uneasily
,
eyeing
the
chair
with
great
suspicion
and
dislike
,
and
very
much
perplexed
between
the
three
human
beings
.
The
tableau
vivant
remained
set
among
the
squashed
bluebells
,
nobody
proffering
a
word
.
’
I
expect
she
’
ll
have
to
be
pushed
,
’
said
Clifford
at
last
,
with
an
affectation
of
sang
froid
.
No
answer
.
Mellors
’
abstracted
face
looked
as
if
he
had
heard
nothing
.
Connie
glanced
anxiously
at
him
.
Clifford
too
glanced
round
.
’
Do
you
mind
pushing
her
home
,
Mellors
!
’
he
said
in
a
cool
superior
tone
.
’
I
hope
I
have
said
nothing
to
offend
you
,
’
he
added
,
in
a
tone
of
dislike
.
’
Nothing
at
all
,
Sir
Clifford
!
Do
you
want
me
to
push
that
chair
?
’
