Page 330 - lady-chatterlys-lover

like thee for it. I like thee for it. Tha’s got a proper, woman’s
arse, proud of itself. It’s none ashamed of itself this isna.’
He laid his hand close and firm over her secret places, in
a kind of close greeting.
’I like it,’ he said. ‘I like it! An’ if I only lived ten minutes,
an’ stroked thy arse an’ got to know it, I should reckon I’d
lived ONElife, see ter! Industrial system or not! Here’s one
o’ my lifetimes.’
She turned round and climbed into his lap, clinging to
him. ‘Kiss me!’ she whispered.
And she knew the thought of their separation was latent
in both their minds, and at last she was sad.
She sat on his thighs, her head against his breast, and her
ivory-gleaming legs loosely apart, the fire glowing unequal-
ly upon them. Sitting with his head dropped, he looked
at the folds of her body in the fire-glow, and at the fleece
of soft brown hair that hung down to a point between her
open thighs. He reached to the table behind, and took up
her bunch of flowers, still so wet that drops of rain fell on
to her.
’Flowers stops out of doors all weathers,’ he said. ‘They
have no houses.’
’Not even a hut!’ she murmured.
With quiet fingers he threaded a few forget-me-not flow-
ers in the fine brown fleece of the mound of Venus.
’There!’ he said. ‘There’s forget-me-nots in the right
place!’
She looked down at the milky odd little flowers among
the brown maiden-hair at the lower tip of her body.