Page 261 - lady-chatterlys-lover

’How?’
’To have a child—?’
’Now anybody can ‘ave any childt i’ th’ world,’ he said, as
he sat down fastening on his leggings.
’Ah no!’ she cried. ‘You don’t mean it?’
’Eh well!’ he said, looking at her under his brows. ‘This
wor t’ best.’
She lay still. He softly opened the door. The sky was dark
blue, with crystalline, turquoise rim. He went out, to shut
up the hens, speaking softly to his dog. And she lay and
wondered at the wonder of life, and of being.
When he came back she was still lying there, glowing
like a gipsy. He sat on the stool by her.
’Tha mun come one naight ter th’ cottage, afore tha goos;
sholl ter?’ he asked, lifting his eyebrows as he looked at her,
his hands dangling between his knees.
’Sholl ter?’ she echoed, teasing.
He smiled. ‘Ay, sholl ter?’ he repeated.
’Ay!’ she said, imitating the dialect sound.
’Yi!’ he said.
’Yi!’ she repeated.
’An’ slaip wi’ me,’ he said. ‘It needs that. When sholt
come?’
’When sholl I?’ she said.
’Nay,’ he said, ‘tha canna do’t. When sholt come then?’
’’Appen Sunday,’ she said.
’’Appen a’ Sunday! Ay!’
He laughed at her quickly.
’Nay, tha canna,’ he protested.

0 Lady Chatterly’s Lover