Page 65 - lady-chatterlys-lover

rest of her life? Nothing else?
Was it just that? She was to be content to weave a steady
life with him, all one fabric, but perhaps brocaded with the
occasional flower of an adventure. But how could she know
what she would feel next year? How could one ever know?
How could one say Yes? for years and years? The little yes,
gone on a breath! Why should one be pinned down by that
butterfly word? Of course it had to flutter away and be gone,
to be followed by other yes’s and no’s! Like the straying of
butterflies.
’I think you’re right, Clifford. And as far as I can see I
agree with you. Only life may turn quite a new face on it
all.’
’But until life turns a new face on it all, you do agree?’
’Oh yes! I think I do, really.’
She was watching a brown spaniel that had run out of a
side-path, and was looking towards them with lifted nose,
making a soft, fluffy bark. A man with a gun strode swift-
ly, softly out after the dog, facing their way as if about to
attack them; then stopped instead, saluted, and was turn-
ing downhill. It was only the new game-keeper, but he had
frightened Connie, he seemed to emerge with such a swift
menace. That was how she had seen him, like the sudden
rush of a threat out of nowhere.
He was a man in dark green velveteens and gaiters...the
old style, with a red face and red moustache and distant
eyes. He was going quickly downhill.
’Mellors!’ called Clifford.
The man faced lightly round, and saluted with a quick

Lady Chatterly’s Lover