Page 62 - lady-chatterlys-lover

’Yes,’ she said slowly.
’That’s why having a son helps; one is only a link in a
chain,’ he said.
Connie was not keen on chains, but she said nothing.
She was thinking of the curious impersonality of his desire
for a son.
’I’m sorry we can’t have a son,’ she said.
He looked at her steadily, with his full, pale-blue eyes.
’It would almost be a good thing if you had a child by an-
other man, he said. ‘If we brought it up at Wragby, it would
belong to us and to the place. I don’t believe very intensely
in fatherhood. If we had the child to rear, it would be our
own, and it would carry on. Don’t you think it’s worth con-
sidering?’
Connie looked up at him at last. The child, her child, was
just an ‘it’ to him. It...it...it!
’But what about the other man?’ she asked.
’Does it matter very much? Do these things really affect
us very deeply?...You had that lover in Germany...what is
it now? Nothing almost. It seems to me that it isn’t these
little acts and little connexions we make in our lives that
matter so very much. They pass away, and where are they?
Where...Where are the snows of yesteryear?...It’s what en-
dures through one’s life that matters; my own life matters
to me, in its long continuance and development. But what
do the occasional connexions matter? And the occasional
sexual connexions especially! If people don’t exaggerate
them ridiculously, they pass like the mating of birds. And
so they should. What does it matter? It’s the life-long com-

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