Page 274 - lady-chatterlys-lover

’So icy!’ she said gasping.
’Good, isn’t it! Did you wish?’
’Did you?’
’Yes, I wished. But I won’t tell.’
She was aware of the rapping of a woodpecker, then of
the wind, soft and eerie through the larches. She looked up.
White clouds were crossing the blue.
’Clouds!’ she said.
’White lambs only,’ he replied.
A shadow crossed the little clearing. The mole had swum
out on to the soft yellow earth.
’Unpleasant little beast, we ought to kill him,’ said Clif-
ford.
’Look! he’s like a parson in a pulpit,’ she said.
She gathered some sprigs of woodruff and brought them
to him.
’New-mown hay!’ he said. ‘Doesn’t it smell like the ro-
mantic ladies of the last century, who had their heads
screwed on the right way after all!’
She was looking at the white clouds.
’I wonder if it will rain,’ she said.
’Rain! Why! Do you want it to?’
They started on the return journey, Clifford jolting cau-
tiously downhill. They came to the dark bottom of the
hollow, turned to the right, and after a hundred yards
swerved up the foot of the long slope, where bluebells stood
in the light.
’Now, old girl!’ said Clifford, putting the chair to it.
It was a steep and jolty climb. The chair pugged slowly,