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- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
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- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
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- Стр. 269/388
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’
Tha
’
rt
real
,
tha
art
!
Tha
’
art
real
,
even
a
bit
of
a
bitch
.
Here
tha
shits
an
’
here
tha
pisses
:
an
’
I
lay
my
hand
on
’
em
both
an
’
like
thee
for
it
.
I
like
thee
for
it
.
Tha
’
s
got
a
proper
,
woman
’
s
arse
,
proud
of
itself
.
It
’
s
none
ashamed
of
itself
this
isna
.
’
He
laid
his
hand
close
and
firm
over
her
secret
places
,
in
a
kind
of
close
greeting
.
’
I
like
it
,
’
he
said
.
’
I
like
it
!
An
’
if
I
only
lived
ten
minutes
,
an
’
stroked
thy
arse
an
’
got
to
know
it
,
I
should
reckon
I
’
d
lived
one
life
,
see
ter
!
Industrial
system
or
not
!
Here
’
s
one
o
’
my
lifetimes
.
’
She
turned
round
and
climbed
into
his
lap
,
clinging
to
him
.
’
Kiss
me
!
’
she
whispered
.
And
she
knew
the
thought
of
their
separation
was
latent
in
both
their
minds
,
and
at
last
she
was
sad
.
She
sat
on
his
thighs
,
her
head
against
his
breast
,
and
her
ivory
-
gleaming
legs
loosely
apart
,
the
fire
glowing
unequally
upon
them
.
Sitting
with
his
head
dropped
,
he
looked
at
the
folds
of
her
body
in
the
fire
-
glow
,
and
at
the
fleece
of
soft
brown
hair
that
hung
down
to
a
point
between
her
open
thighs
.
He
reached
to
the
table
behind
,
and
took
up
her
bunch
of
flowers
,
still
so
wet
that
drops
of
rain
fell
on
to
her
.
’
Flowers
stops
out
of
doors
all
weathers
,
’
he
said
.
’
They
have
no
houses
.
’
’
Not
even
a
hut
!
’
she
murmured
.
With
quiet
fingers
he
threaded
a
few
forget
-
me
-
not
flowers
in
the
fine
brown
fleece
of
the
mound
of
Venus
.
