Page 287 - lady-chatterlys-lover

’Perhaps! But one might possibly get something that
wasn’t self-important.’
’Well, I like Proust’s subtlety and his well-bred anarchy.’
’It makes you very dead, really.’
’There speaks my evangelical little wife.’
They were at it again, at it again! But she couldn’t help
fighting him. He seemed to sit there like a skeleton, send-
ing out a skeleton’s cold grizzly WILL against her. Almost
she could feel the skeleton clutching her and pressing her to
its cage of ribs. He too was really up in arms: and she was a
little afraid of him.
She went upstairs as soon as possible, and went to bed
quite early. But at half past nine she got up, and went outside
to listen. There was no sound. She slipped on a dressing-
gown and went downstairs. Clifford and Mrs Bolton were
playing cards, gambling. They would probably go on until
midnight.
Connie returned to her room, threw her pyjamas on the
tossed bed, put on a thin tennis-dress and over that a wool-
len day-dress, put on rubber tennis-shoes, and then a light
coat. And she was ready. If she met anybody, she was just
going out for a few minutes. And in the morning, when she
came in again, she would just have been for a little walk
in the dew, as she fairly often did before breakfast. For the
rest, the only danger was that someone should go into her
room during the night. But that was most unlikely: not one
chance in a hundred.
Betts had not locked up. He fastened up the house at ten
o’clock, and unfastened it again at seven in the morning.

Lady Chatterly’s Lover