Page 193 - lady-chatterlys-lover

’Oh, any time he’s around. Often in the morning. Well,
goodbye Lady Chatterley! And do come again. It was so
lovely having you.’
Connie climbed the fence into the narrow path between
the dense, bristling young firs. Mrs Flint went running back
across the pasture, in a sun-bonnet, because she was really
a schoolteacher. Constance didn’t like this dense new part
of the wood; it seemed gruesome and choking. She hurried
on with her head down, thinking of the Flints’ baby. It was
a dear little thing, but it would be a bit bow-legged like its
father. It showed already, but perhaps it would grow out of it.
How warm and fulfilling somehow to have a baby, and how
Mrs Flint had showed it off! She had something anyhow
that Connie hadn’t got, and apparently couldn’t have. Yes,
Mrs Flint had flaunted her motherhood. And Connie had
been just a bit, just a little bit jealous. She couldn’t help it.
She started out of her muse, and gave a little cry of fear.
A man was there.
It was the keeper. He stood in the path like Balaam’s ass,
barring her way.
’How’s this?’ he said in surprise.
’How did you come?’ she panted.
’How did you? Have you been to the hut?’
’No! No! I went to Marehay.’
He looked at her curiously, searchingly, and she hung her
head a little guiltily.
’And were you going to the hut now?’ he asked rather
sternly. ‘No! I mustn’t. I stayed at Marehay. No one knows
where I am. I’m late. I’ve got to run.’

1 Lady Chatterly’s Lover