Page 130 - lady-chatterlys-lover

He had lapsed into the vernacular. Connie hesitated; he
was putting up an opposition. Was it his hut, after all?
’Couldn’t we get another key?’ she asked in her soft voice,
that underneath had the ring of a woman determined to get
her way.
’Another!’ he said, glancing at her with a flash of anger,
touched with derision.
’Yes, a duplicate,’ she said, flushing.
’’Appen Sir Clifford ‘ud know,’ he said, putting her off.
’Yes!’ she said, ‘he might have another. Otherwise we
could have one made from the one you have. It would only
take a day or so, I suppose. You could spare your key for so
long.’
’Ah canna tell yer, m’Lady! Ah know nob’dy as ma’es
keys round ‘ere.’
Connie suddenly flushed with anger.
’Very well!’ she said. ‘I’ll see to it.’
’All right, your Ladyship.’
Their eyes met. His had a cold, ugly look of dislike and
contempt, and indifference to what would happen. Hers
were hot with rebuff.
But her heart sank, she saw how utterly he disliked her,
when she went against him. And she saw him in a sort of
desperation.
’Good afternoon!’
’Afternoon, my Lady!’ He saluted and turned abruptly
away. She had wakened the sleeping dogs of old voracious
anger in him, anger against the self-willed female. And he
was powerless, powerless. He knew it!

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