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

"Women in Love"

She moved convulsively, recoiling away from him. His heart
went up like a flame of ice, he closed over her like steel. He would
destroy her rather than be denied.
But the overweening power of his body was too much for her. She relaxed
again, and lay loose and soft, panting in a little delirium. And to
him, she was so sweet, she was such bliss of release, that he would
have suffered a whole eternity of torture rather than forego one second
of this pang of unsurpassable bliss.
'My God,' he said to her, his face drawn and strange, transfigured,
'what next?'
She lay perfectly still, with a still, child-like face and dark eyes,
looking at him. She was lost, fallen right away.
'I shall always love you,' he said, looking at her.
But she did not hear. She lay, looking at him as at something she could
never understand, never: as a child looks at a grown-up person, without
hope of understanding, only submitting.
He kissed her, kissed her eyes shut, so that she could not look any
more.


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