Page 337 - lady-chatterlys-lover

a pink campion flower, and in her maiden-hair were forget-
me-nots and woodruff.
’That’s you in all your glory!’ he said. ‘Lady Jane, at her
wedding with John Thomas.’
And he stuck flowers in the hair of his own body, and
wound a bit of creeping-jenny round his penis, and stuck a
single bell of a hyacinth in his navel. She watched him with
amusement, his odd intentness. And she pushed a campion
flower in his moustache, where it stuck, dangling under his
nose.
’This is John Thomas marryin’ Lady Jane,’ he said. ‘An’
we mun let Constance an’ Oliver go their ways. Maybe—’
He spread out his hand with a gesture, and then he
sneezed, sneezing away the flowers from his nose and his
navel. He sneezed again.
’Maybe what?’ she said, waiting for him to go on.
He looked at her a little bewildered.
’Eh?’ he said.
’Maybe what? Go on with what you were going to say,’
she insisted.
’Ay, what WAS I going to say?’
He had forgotten. And it was one of the disappointments
of her life, that he never finished.
A yellow ray of sun shone over the trees.
’Sun!’ he said. ‘And time you went. Time, my Lady, time!
What’s that as flies without wings, your Ladyship? Time!
Time!’
He reached for his shirt.
’Say goodnight! to John Thomas,’ he said, looking down

Lady Chatterly’s Lover