Page 291 - lady-chatterlys-lover

He went to the pantry, bringing food: bread and butter and
pressed tongue. She was warm: she took off her coat. He
hung it on the door.
’Shall you have cocoa or tea or coffee to drink?’ he asked.
’I don’t think I want anything,’ she said, looking at the
table. ‘But you eat.’
’Nay, I don’t care about it. I’ll just feed the dog.’
He tramped with a quiet inevitability over the brick
floor, putting food for the dog in a brown bowl. The spaniel
looked up at him anxiously.
’Ay, this is thy supper, tha nedna look as if tha wouldna
get it!’ he said.
He set the bowl on the stairfoot mat, and sat himself on a
chair by the wall, to take off his leggings and boots. The dog
instead of eating, came to him again, and sat looking up at
him, troubled.
He slowly unbuckled his leggings. The dog edged a little
nearer.
’What’s amiss wi’ thee then? Art upset because there’s
somebody else here? Tha’rt a female, tha art! Go an’ eat thy
supper.’
He put his hand on her head, and the bitch leaned her
head sideways against him. He slowly, softly pulled the long
silky ear.
’There!’ he said. ‘There! Go an’ eat thy supper! Go!’
He tilted his chair towards the pot on the mat, and the
dog meekly went, and fell to eating.
’Do you like dogs?’ Connie asked him.
’No, not really. They’re too tame and clinging.’

0 Lady Chatterly’s Lover