Page 103 - lady-chatterlys-lover

er, attended to Clifford. He, as was inevitable in the course
of time, took all the service for granted. It was natural he
should.
And yet, deep inside herself, a sense of injustice, of be-
ing defrauded, had begun to burn in Connie. The physical
sense of injustice is a dangerous feeling, once it is awak-
ened. It must have outlet, or it eats away the one in whom
it is aroused. Poor Clifford, he was not to blame. His was
the greater misfortune. It was all part of the general catas-
trophe.
And yet was he not in a way to blame? This lack of
warmth, this lack of the simple, warm, physical contact,
was he not to blame for that? He was never really warm, nor
even kind, only thoughtful, considerate, in a well-bred, cold
sort of way! But never warm as a man can be warm to a
woman, as even Connie’s father could be warm to her, with
the warmth of a man who did himself well, and intended
to, but who still could comfort it woman with a bit of his
masculine glow.
But Clifford was not like that. His whole race was not like
that. They were all inwardly hard and separate, and warmth
to them was just bad taste. You had to get on without it, and
hold your own; which was all very well if you were of the
same class and race. Then you could keep yourself cold and
be very estimable, and hold your own, and enjoy the satis-
faction of holding it. But if you were of another class and
another race it wouldn’t do; there was no fun merely hold-
ing your own, and feeling you belonged to the ruling class.
What was the point, when even the smartest aristocrats had

10 Lady Chatterly’s Lover