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Lawrence, D. H. (David Herbert), 1885-1930

"Women in Love"

And he seemed to listen with
reverence. Her face was beautiful and full of baffled light as she told
him all the things that had hurt her or perplexed her so deeply. He
seemed to warm and comfort his soul at the beautiful light of her
nature.
'If she REALLY could pledge herself,' he thought to himself, with
passionate insistence but hardly any hope. Yet a curious little
irresponsible laughter appeared in his heart.
'We have all suffered so much,' he mocked, ironically.
She looked up at him, and a flash of wild gaiety went over her face, a
strange flash of yellow light coming from her eyes.
'Haven't we!' she cried, in a high, reckless cry. 'It is almost absurd,
isn't it?'
'Quite absurd,' he said. 'Suffering bores me, any more.'
'So it does me.'
He was almost afraid of the mocking recklessness of her splendid face.
Here was one who would go to the whole lengths of heaven or hell,
whichever she had to go. And he mistrusted her, he was afraid of a
woman capable of such abandon, such dangerous thoroughness of
destructivity.


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