Page 416 - lady-chatterlys-lover

They can’t live! They only frustrate life. Their souls are aw-
ful inside them. Death ought to be sweet to them. And I
ought to be allowed to shoot them.’
’But you wouldn’t do it,’ she said.
’I would though! and with less qualms than I shoot a
weasel. It anyhow has a prettiness and a loneliness. But they
are legion. Oh, I’d shoot them.’
’Then perhaps it is just as well you daren’t.’
’Well.’
Connie had now plenty to think of. It was evident he
wanted absolutely to be free of Bertha Coutts. And she
felt he was right. The last attack had been too grim.—This
meant her living alone, till spring. Perhaps she could get di-
vorced from Clifford. But how? If Mellors were named, then
there was an end to his divorce. How loathsome! Couldn’t
one go right away, to the far ends of the earth, and be free
from it all?
One could not. The far ends of the world are not five min-
utes from Charing Cross, nowadays. While the wireless is
active, there are no far ends of the earth. Kings of Dahomey
and Lamas of Tibet listen in to London and New York.
Patience! Patience! The world is a vast and ghastly intri-
cacy of mechanism, and one has to be very wary, not to get
mangled by it.
Connie confided in her father.
’You see, Father, he was Clifford’s game-keeper: but he
was an officer in the army in India. Only he is like Colonel
C. E. Florence, who preferred to become a private soldier
again.’

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