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- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
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- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
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- Стр. 85/388
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’
I
wondered
what
the
hammering
was
,
’
she
said
,
feeling
weak
and
breathless
,
and
a
little
afraid
of
him
,
as
he
looked
so
straight
at
her
.
’
Ah
’
m
gettin
’
th
’
coops
ready
for
th
’
young
bods
,
’
he
said
,
in
broad
vernacular
.
She
did
not
know
what
to
say
,
and
she
felt
weak
.
’
I
should
like
to
sit
down
a
bit
,
’
she
said
.
’
Come
and
sit
’
ere
i
’
th
’
’
ut
,
’
he
said
,
going
in
front
of
her
to
the
hut
,
pushing
aside
some
timber
and
stuff
,
and
drawing
out
a
rustic
chair
,
made
of
hazel
sticks
.
’
Am
Ah
t
’
light
yer
a
little
fire
?
’
he
asked
,
with
the
curious
naivete
of
the
dialect
.
’
Oh
,
don
’
t
bother
,
’
she
replied
.
But
he
looked
at
her
hands
;
they
were
rather
blue
.
So
he
quickly
took
some
larch
twigs
to
the
little
brick
fire
-
place
in
the
corner
,
and
in
a
moment
the
yellow
flame
was
running
up
the
chimney
.
He
made
a
place
by
the
brick
hearth
.
’
Sit
’
ere
then
a
bit
,
and
warm
yer
,
’
he
said
.
She
obeyed
him
.
He
had
that
curious
kind
of
protective
authority
she
obeyed
at
once
.
So
she
sat
and
warmed
her
hands
at
the
blaze
,
and
dropped
logs
on
the
fire
,
whilst
outside
he
was
hammering
again
.
She
did
not
really
want
to
sit
,
poked
in
a
corner
by
the
fire
;
she
would
rather
have
watched
from
the
door
,
but
she
was
being
looked
after
,
so
she
had
to
submit
.
The
hut
was
quite
cosy
,
panelled
with
unvarnished
deal
,
having
a
little
rustic
table
and
stool
beside
her
chair
,
and
a
carpenter
’
s
bench
,
then
a
big
box
,
tools
,
new
boards
,
nails
;
and
many
things
hung
from
pegs
:
axe
,
hatchet
,
traps
,
things
in
sacks
,
his
coat
.
It
had
no
window
,
the
light
came
in
through
the
open
door
.
It
was
a
jumble
,
but
also
it
was
a
sort
of
little
sanctuary
.
