Page 131 - lady-chatterlys-lover

And she was angry against the self-willed male. A ser-
vant too! She walked sullenly home.
She found Mrs Bolton under the great beech-tree on the
knoll, looking for her.
’I just wondered if you’d be coming, my Lady,’ the wom-
an said brightly.
’Am I late?’ asked Connie.
’Oh only Sir Clifford was waiting for his tea.’
’Why didn’t you make it then?’
’Oh, I don’t think it’s hardly my place. I don’t think Sir
Clifford would like it at all, my Lady.’
’I don’t see why not,’ said Connie.
She went indoors to Clifford’s study, where the old brass
kettle was simmering on the tray.
’Am I late, Clifford?’ she said, putting down the few flow-
ers and taking up the tea-caddy, as she stood before the
tray in her hat and scarf. ‘I’m sorry! Why didn’t you let Mrs
Bolton make the tea?’
’I didn’t think of it,’ he said ironically. ‘I don’t quite see
her presiding at the tea-table.’
’Oh, there’s nothing sacrosanct about a silver tea-pot,’
said Connie.
He glanced up at her curiously.
’What did you do all afternoon?’ he said.
’Walked and sat in a sheltered place. Do you know there
are still berries on the big holly-tree?’
She took off her scarf, but not her hat, and sat down to
make tea. The toast would certainly be leathery. She put the
tea-cosy over the tea-pot, and rose to get a little glass for her

1 0 Lady Chatterly’s Lover