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

"Women in Love"


'And I shall strike the last,' she retorted involuntarily, with
confident assurance. He was silent, he did not contradict her.
She stood negligently, staring away from him, into the distance. On the
edge of her consciousness the question was asking itself,
automatically:
'Why ARE you behaving in this IMPOSSIBLE and ridiculous fashion.' But
she was sullen, she half shoved the question out of herself. She could
not get it clean away, so she felt self-conscious.
Gerald, very pale, was watching her closely. His eyes were lit up with
intent lights, absorbed and gleaming. She turned suddenly on him.
'It's you who make me behave like this, you know,' she said, almost
suggestive.
'I? How?' he said.
But she turned away, and set off towards the lake. Below, on the water,
lanterns were coming alight, faint ghosts of warm flame floating in the
pallor of the first twilight. The earth was spread with darkness, like
lacquer, overhead was a pale sky, all primrose, and the lake was pale
as milk in one part.


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