Page 357 - lady-chatterlys-lover

you feel you LIVE, and are in the very middle of creation.’ It
was almost like bragging on her part.
’I suppose every mosquito feels the same,’ said Hilda. ‘Do
you think it does? How nice for it!’
The evening was wonderfully clear and long-linger-
ing, even in the small town. It would be half-light all night.
With a face like a mask, from resentment, Hilda started her
car again, and the two sped back on their traces, taking the
other road, through Bolsover.
Connie wore her goggles and disguising cap, and she sat
in silence. Because of Hilda’s Opposition, she was fiercely
on the sidle of the man, she would stand by him through
thick and thin.
They had their head-lights on, by the time they passed
Crosshill, and the small lit-up train that chuffed past in
the cutting made it seem like real night. Hilda had calcu-
lated the turn into the lane at the bridge-end. She slowed up
rather suddenly and swerved off the road, the lights glaring
white into the grassy, overgrown lane. Connie looked out.
She saw a shadowy figure, and she opened the door.
’Here we are!’ she said softly.
But Hilda had switched off the lights, and was absorbed
backing, making the turn.
’Nothing on the bridge?’ she asked shortly. ‘You’re all
right,’ said the mall’s voice. She backed on to the bridge, re-
versed, let the car run forwards a few yards along the road,
then backed into the lane, under a wych-elm tree, crushing
the grass and bracken. Then all the lights went out. Connie
stepped down. The man stood under the trees.

Lady Chatterly’s Lover