Page 244 - lady-chatterlys-lover

shirt-sleeves, eating. The dog wuffed softly, slowly wagging
her tail.
He rose, and came to the door, wiping his mouth with a
red handkerchief still chewing.
’May I come in?’ she said.
’Come in!’
The sun shone into the bare room, which still smelled
of a mutton chop, done in a dutch oven before the fire, be-
cause the dutch oven still stood on the fender, with the black
potato-saucepan on a piece of paper, beside it on the white
hearth. The fire was red, rather low, the bar dropped, the
kettle singing.
On the table was his plate, with potatoes and the remains
of the chop; also bread in a basket, salt, and a blue mug with
beer. The table-cloth was white oil-cloth, he stood in the
shade.
’You are very late,’ she said. ‘Do go on eating!’
She sat down on a wooden chair, in the sunlight by the
door.
’I had to go to Uthwaite,’ he said, sitting down at the table
but not eating.
’Do eat,’ she said. But he did not touch the food.
’Shall y’ave something?’ he asked her. ‘Shall y’ave a cup of
tea? t’ kettle’s on t’ boil’—he half rose again from his chair.
’If you’ll let me make it myself,’ she said, rising. He
seemed sad, and she felt she was bothering him.
’Well, tea-pot’s in there’—he pointed to a little, drab
corner cupboard; ‘an’ cups. An’ tea’s on t’ mantel ower yer
‘ead,’