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- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
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- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
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- Стр. 246/388
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’
Oh
!
’
she
said
,
kissing
him
mockingly
.
’
Let
’
s
have
them
sautes
.
’
He
laughed
,
and
sat
erect
.
’
It
’
s
a
fact
!
’
he
said
.
’
Anything
for
a
bit
of
warm
-
heartedness
.
But
the
women
don
’
t
like
it
.
Even
you
don
’
t
really
like
it
.
You
like
good
,
sharp
,
piercing
cold
-
hearted
fucking
,
and
then
pretending
it
’
s
all
sugar
.
Where
’
s
your
tenderness
for
me
?
You
’
re
as
suspicious
of
me
as
a
cat
is
of
a
dog
.
I
tell
you
it
takes
two
even
to
be
tender
and
warm
-
hearted
.
You
love
fucking
all
right
:
but
you
want
it
to
be
called
something
grand
and
mysterious
,
just
to
flatter
your
own
self
-
importance
.
Your
own
self
-
importance
is
more
to
you
,
fifty
times
more
,
than
any
man
,
or
being
together
with
a
man
.
’
’
But
that
’
s
what
I
’
d
say
of
you
.
Your
own
self
-
importance
is
everything
to
you
.
’
’
Ay
!
Very
well
then
!
’
he
said
,
moving
as
if
he
wanted
to
rise
.
’
Let
’
s
keep
apart
then
.
I
’
d
rather
die
than
do
any
more
cold
-
hearted
fucking
.
’
She
slid
away
from
him
,
and
he
stood
up
.
’
And
do
you
think
I
want
it
?
’
she
said
.
’
I
hope
you
don
’
t
,
’
he
replied
.
’
But
anyhow
,
you
go
to
bed
an
’
I
’
ll
sleep
down
here
.
’
She
looked
at
him
.
He
was
pale
,
his
brows
were
sullen
,
he
was
as
distant
in
recoil
as
the
cold
pole
.
Men
were
all
alike
.
