Page 283 - lady-chatterlys-lover

and kissed his hand. Meanwhile the back of Clifford’s head
was held sleek and motionless, just in front of them.
At the top of the hill they rested, and Connie was glad to
let go. She had had fugitive dreams of friendship between
these two men: one her husband, the other the father of her
child. Now she saw the screaming absurdity of her dreams.
The two males were as hostile as fire and water. They mu-
tually exterminated one another. And she realized for the
first time what a queer subtle thing hate is. For the first time,
she had consciously and definitely hated Clifford, with viv-
id hate: as if he ought to be obliterated from the face of the
earth. And it was strange, how free and full of life it made
her feel, to hate him and to admit it fully to herself.—’Now
I’ve hated him, I shall never be able to go on living with
him,’ came the thought into her mind.
On the level the keeper could push the chair alone.
Clifford made a little conversation with her, to show his
complete composure: about Aunt Eva, who was at Dieppe,
and about Sir Malcolm, who had written to ask would Con-
nie drive with him in his small car, to Venice, or would she
and Hilda go by train.
’I’d much rather go by train,’ said Connie. ‘I don’t like
long motor drives, especially when there’s dust. But I shall
see what Hilda wants.’
’She will want to drive her own car, and take you with
her,’ he said.
’Probably!—I must help up here. You’ve no idea how
heavy this chair is.’
She went to the back of the chair, and plodded side by

Lady Chatterly’s Lover