Hewasnakedtothehips，hisvelveteenbreechesslippingdownoverhisslenderloins。Andhiswhiteslimbackwascurvedoverabigbowlofsoapywater，inwhichheduckedhishead，shakinghisheadwithaqueer，quicklittlemotion，liftinghisslenderwhitearms，andpressingthesoapywaterfromhisears，quick，subtleasaweaselplayingwithwater，andutterlyalone。Conniebackedawayroundthecornerofthehouse，andhurriedawaytothewood。Inspiteofherself，shehadhadashock。Afterall，merelyamanwashinghimself，commonplaceenough，Heavenknows!
Yetinsomecuriouswayitwasavisionaryexperience：ithadhitherinthemiddleofthebody。Shesawtheclumsybreechesslippingdownoverthepure，delicate，whiteloins，thebonesshowingalittle，andthesenseofaloneness，ofacreaturepurelyalone，overwhelmedher。Perfect，white，solitarynudityofacreaturethatlivesalone，andinwardlyalone。Andbeyondthat，acertainbeautyofapurecreature。Notthestuffofbeauty，noteventhebodyofbeauty，butalambency，thewarm，whiteflameofasinglelife，revealingitselfincontoursthatonemighttouch：abody!
Conniehadreceivedtheshockofvisioninherwomb，andsheknewit；
itlayinsideher。Butwithhermindshewasinclinedtoridicule。Amanwashinghimselfinabackyard!Nodoubtwithevil-smellingyellowsoap!
Shewasratherannoyed；whyshouldshebemadetostumbleonthesevulgarprivacies？
Soshewalkedawayfromherself，butafterawhileshesatdownonastump。Shewastooconfusedtothink。Butinthecoilofherconfusion，shewasdeterminedtodeliverhermessagetothefellow。Shewouldnothebalked。Shemustgivehimtimetodresshimself，butnottimetogoout。Hewasprobablypreparingtogooutsomewhere。
Soshesaunteredslowlyback，listening。Asshecamenear，thecottagelookedjustthesame。Adogbarked，andsheknockedatthedoor，herheartbeatinginspiteofherself。
Sheheardthemancominglightlydownstairs。Heopenedthedoorquickly，andstartledher。Helookeduneasyhimself，butinstantlyalaughcameonhisface。
`LadyChatterley!’hesaid。`Willyoucomein？’
Hismannerwassoperfectlyeasyandgood，shesteppedoverthethresholdintotheratherdrearylittleroom。
`IonlycalledwithamessagefromSirClifford，’shesaidinhersoft，ratherbreathlessvoice。
Themanwaslookingatherwiththoseblue，all-seeingeyesofhis，whichmadeherturnherfaceasidealittle。Hethoughthercomely，almostbeautiful，inhershyness，andhetookcommandofthesituationhimselfatonce。
`Wouldyoucaretositdown？’heasked，presumingshewouldnot。Thedoorstoodopen。
`Nothanks!SirCliffordwonderedifyouwouldandshedeliveredhermessage，lookingunconsciouslyintohiseyesagain。Andnowhiseyeslookedwarmandkind，particularlytoawoman，wonderfullywarm，andkind，andatease。
`Verygood，yourLadyship。Iwillseetoitatonce。’
Takinganorder，hiswholeselfhadchanged，glazedoverwithasortofhardnessanddistance。Conniehesitated，sheoughttogo。Butshelookedroundtheclean，tidy，ratherdrearylittlesitting-roomwithsomethinglikedismay。
`Doyouliveherequitealone？’sheasked。
`Quitealone，yourLadyship。’
`Butyourmother……？’
`Shelivesinherowncottageinthevillage。’
`Withthechild？’askedConnie。
`Withthechild!’
Andhisplain，ratherwornfacetookonanindefinablelookofderision。
Itwasafacethatchangedallthetime，baking。
`No，’hesaid，seeingConniestandataloss，`mymothercomesandcleansupformeonSaturdays；Idotherestmyself。’
AgainConnielookedathim。Hiseyesweresmilingagain，alittlemockingly，butwarmandblue，andsomehowkind。Shewonderedathim。Hewasintrousersandflannelshirtandagreytie，hishairsoftanddamp，hisfaceratherpaleandworn-looking。Whentheeyesceasedtolaughtheylookedasiftheyhadsufferedagreatdeal，stillwithoutlosingtheirwarmth。Butapallorofisolationcameoverhim，shewasnotreallythereforhim。
Shewantedtosaysomanythings，andshesaidnothing。Onlyshelookedupathimagain，andremarked：
`IhopeIdidn’tdisturbyou？’
Thefaintsmileofmockerynarrowedhiseyes。
`Onlycombingmyhair，ifyoudon’tmind。I’msorryIhadn’tacoaton，butthenIhadnoideawhowasknocking。Nobodyknockshere，andtheunexpectedsoundsominous。’
Hewentinfrontofherdownthegardenpathtoholdthegate。Inhisshirt，withouttheclumsyvelveteencoat，shesawagainhowslenderhewas，thin，stoopingalittle。Yet，asshepassedhim，therewassomethingyoungandbrightinhisfairhair，andhisquickeyes。Hewouldbeamanaboutthirty-sevenoreight。
Sheploddedonintothewood，knowinghewaslookingafterher；heupsethersomuch，inspiteofherself。
Andhe，ashewentindoors，wasthinking：`She’snice，she’sreal!She’snicerthansheknows。’
Shewonderedverymuchabouthim；heseemedsounlikeagame-keeper，sounlikeaworking-mananyhow；althoughhehadsomethingincommonwiththelocalpeople。Butalsosomethingveryuncommon。
`Thegame-keeper，Mellors，isacuriouskindofperson，’shesaidtoClifford；`hemightalmostbeagentleman。’
`Mighthe？’saidClifford。`Ihadn’tnoticed。’
`Butisn’ttheresomethingspecialabouthim？’Connieinsisted。
`Ithinkhe’squiteanicefellow，butIknowverylittleabouthim。
Heonlycameoutofthearmylastyear，lessthanayearago。FromIndia，Iratherthink。Hemayhavepickedupcertaintricksoutthere，perhapshewasanofficer’sservant，andimprovedonhisposition。Someofthemenwerelikethat。Butitdoesthemnogood，theyhavetofallbackintotheiroldplaceswhentheygethomeagain。’
ConniegazedatCliffordcontemplatively。Shesawinhimthepeculiartightrebuffagainstanyoneofthelowerclasseswhomightbereallyclimbingup，whichsheknewwascharacteristicofhisbreed。
`Butdon’tyouthinkthereissomethingspecialabouthim？’sheasked。
`Frankly，no!NothingIhadnoticed。’
Helookedathercuriously，uneasily，half-suspiciously。Andshefelthewasn’ttellinghertherealtruth；hewasn’ttellinghimselftherealtruth，thatwasit。Hedislikedanysuggestionofareallyexceptionalhumanbeing。Peoplemustbemoreorlessathislevel，orbelowit。
Conniefeltagainthetightness，niggardlinessofthemenofhergeneration。
Theyweresotight，soscaredoflife!
Chapter7
WhenConniewentuptoherbedroomshedidwhatshehadnotdoneforalongtime：tookoffallherclothes，andlookedatherselfnakedinthehugemirror。Shedidnotknowwhatshewaslookingfor，orat，verydefinitely，yetshemovedthelamptillitshonefullonher。
Andshethought，asshehadthoughtsooften，whatafrail，easilyhurt，ratherpatheticthingahumanbodyis，naked；somehowalittleunfinished，incomplete!
Shehadbeensupposedtohaveratheragoodfigure，butnowshewasoutoffashion：alittletoofemale，notenoughlikeanadolescentboy。
Shewasnotverytall，abitScottishandshort；butshehadacertainfluent，down-slippinggracethatmighthavebeenbeauty。Herskinwasfaintlytawny，herlimbshadacertainstillness，herbodyshouldhavehadafull，down-slippingrichness；butitlackedsomething。
Insteadofripeningitsfirm，down-runningcurves，herbodywasflatteningandgoingalittleharsh。Itwasasifithadnothadenoughsunandwarmth；
itwasalittlegreyishandsapless。
Disappointedofitsrealwomanhood，ithadnotsucceededinbecomingboyish，andunsubstantial，andtransparent；insteadithadgoneopaque。
Herbreastswererathersmall，anddroppingpear-shaped。Buttheywereunripe，alittlebitter，withoutmeaninghangingthere。Andherbellyhadlostthefresh，roundgleamithadhadwhenshewasyoung，inthedaysofherGermanboy，whoreallylovedherphysically。Thenitwasyoungandexpectant，withareallookofitsown。Nowitwasgoingslack，andalittleflat，thinner，butwithaslackthinness。Herthighs，too，theyusedtolooksoquickandglimpsyintheirfemaleroundness，somehowtheytooweregoingflat，slack，meaningless。
Herbodywasgoingmeaningless，goingdullandopaque，somuchinsignificantsubstance。Itmadeherfeelimmenselydepressedandhopeless。Whathopewasthere？Shewasold，oldattwenty-seven，withnogleamandsparkleintheflesh。Oldthroughneglectanddenial，yes，denial。Fashionablewomenkepttheirbodiesbrightlikedelicateporcelain，byexternalattention。
Therewasnothinginsidetheporcelain；butshewasnotevenasbrightasthat。Thementallife!Suddenlyshehateditwitharushingfury，theswindle!
Shelookedintheothermirror’sreflectionatherback，herwaist，herloins。Shewasgettingthinner，buttoheritwasnotbecoming。Thecrumpleofherwaistattheback，asshebentbacktolook，wasalittleweary；anditusedtobesogay-looking。Andthelongishslopeofherhaunchesandherbuttockshadlostitsgleamanditssenseofrichness。Gone!OnlytheGermanboyhadlovedit，andhewastenyearsdead，verynearly。Howtimewentby!Tenyearsdead，andshewasonlytwenty-seven。Thehealthyboywithhisfresh，clumsysensualitythatshehadthenbeensoscornfulof!Wherewouldshefinditnow？Itwasgoneoutofmen。Theyhadtheirpathetic，two-secondsspasmslikeMichaelis；butnohealthyhumansensuality，thatwarmsthebloodandfreshensthewholebeing。
Stillshethoughtthemostbeautifulpartofherwasthelong-slopingfallofthehaunchesfromthesocketoftheback，andtheslumberous，roundstillnessofthebuttocks。Likehillocksofsand，theArabssay，softanddownward-slippingwithalongslope。Herethelifestilllingeredhoping。
Butheretooshewasthinner，andgoingunripe，astringent。
Butthefrontofherbodymadehermiserable。Itwasalreadybeginningtoslacken，withaslacksortofthinness，almostwithered，goingoldbeforeithadeverreallylived。Shethoughtofthechildshemightsomehowbear。
Wasshefit，anyhow？
Sheslippedintohernightdress，andwenttobed，whereshesobbedbitterly。
AndinherbitternessburnedacoldindignationagainstClifford，andhiswritingsandhistalk：againstallthemenofhissortwhodefraudedawomanevenofherownbody。
Unjust!Unjust!Thesenseofdeepphysicalinjusticeburnedtoherverysoul。
Butinthemorning，allthesame，shewasupatseven，andgoingdownstairstoClifford。Shehadtohelphiminalltheintimatethings，forhehadnoman，andrefusedawoman-servant。Thehousekeeper’shusband，whohadknownhimasaboy，helpedhim，anddidanyheavylifting；butConniedidthepersonalthings，andshedidthemwillingly。Itwasademandonher，butshehadwantedtodowhatshecould。
SoshehardlyeverwentawayfromWragby，andneverformorethanadayortwo；whenMrsBetts，thehousekeeper，attendedtoClifford。He，aswasinevitableinthecourseoftime，tookalltheserviceforgranted。
Itwasnaturalheshould。
Andyet，deepinsideherself，asenseofinjustice，ofbeingdefrauded，hadbeguntoburninConnie。Thephysicalsenseofinjusticeisadangerousfeeling，onceitisawakened。Itmusthaveoutlet，oriteatsawaytheoneinwhomitisaroused。PoorClifford，hewasnottoblame。Hiswasthegreatermisfortune。Itwasallpartofthegeneralcatastrophe。
Andyetwashenotinawaytoblame？Thislackofwarmth，thislackofthesimple，warm，physicalcontact，washenottoblameforthat？Hewasneverreallywarm，norevenkind，onlythoughtful，considerate，inawell-bred，coldsortofway!Butneverwarmasamancanbewarmtoawoman，asevenConnie’sfathercouldbewarmtoher，withthewarmthofamanwhodidhimselfwell，andintendedto，butwhostillcouldcomfortitwomanwithabitofhismasculineglow。
ButCliffordwasnotlikethat。Hiswholeracewasnotlikethat。Theywereallinwardlyhardandseparate，andwarmthtothemwasjustbadtaste。
Youhadtogetonwithoutit，andholdyourown；whichwasallverywellifyouwereofthesameclassandrace。Thenyoucouldkeepyourselfcoldandbeveryestimable，andholdyourown，andenjoythesatisfactionofholdingit。Butifyouwereofanotherclassandanotherraceitwouldn’tdo；therewasnofunmerelyholdingyourown，andfeelingyoubelongedtotherulingclass。Whatwasthepoint，wheneventhesmartestaristocratshadreallynothingpositiveoftheirowntohold，andtheirrulewasreallyafarce，notruleatall？Whatwasthepoint？Itwasallcoldnonsense。
AsenseofrebellionsmoulderedinConnie。Whatwasthegoodofitall？
Whatwasthegoodofhersacrifice，herdevotingherlifetoClifford？
Whatwassheserving，afterall？Acoldspiritofvanity，thathadnowarmhumancontacts，andthatwasascorruptasanylow-bornJew，incravingforprostitutiontothebitch-goddess，Success。EvenClifford’scoolandcontactlessassurancethathebelongedtotherulingclassdidn’tpreventhistonguelollingoutofhismouth，ashepantedafterthebitch-goddess。
Afterall，Michaeliswasreallymoredignifiedinthematter，andfar，farmoresuccessful。Really，ifyoulookedcloselyatClifford，hewasabuffoon，andabuffoonismorehumiliatingthanabounder。
Asbetweenthetwomen，MichaelisreallyhadfarmoreuseforherthanCliffordhad。Hehadevenmoreneedofher。Anygoodnursecanattendtocrippledlegs!Andasfortheheroiceffort，Michaeliswasaheroicrat，andCliffordwasverymuchofapoodleshowingoff。
Therewerepeoplestayinginthehouse，amongthemClifford’sAuntEva，LadyBennerley。Shewasathinwomanofsixty，witharednose，awidow，andstillsomethingofagrandedame。Shebelongedtooneofthebestfamilies，andhadthecharactertocarryitoff。Connielikedher，shewassoperfectlysimpleand[rank，asfarassheintendedtobefrank，andsuperficiallykind。Insideherselfshewasapast-mistressinholdingherown，andholdingotherpeoplealittlelower。Shewasnotatallasnob：fartoosureofherself。Shewasperfectatthesocialsportofcoollyholdingherown，andmakingotherpeopledefertoher。
ShewaskindtoConnie，andtriedtowormintoherwoman’ssoulwiththesharpgimletofherwell-bornobservations。
`You’requitewonderful，inmyopinion，’shesaidtoConnie。`You’vedonewondersforClifford。Ineversawanybuddinggeniusmyself，andthereheis，alltherage。’AuntEvawasquitecomplacentlyproudofClifford’ssuccess。Anotherfeatherinthefamilycap!Shedidn’tcareastrawabouthisbooks，butwhyshouldshe？
`Oh，Idon’tthinkit’smydoing，’saidConnie。