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

"Women in Love"

'
She looked at him with black fury.
'I don't choose to be discussed by you,' she said.
'It doesn't matter whether you choose or not,' he replied, 'that
doesn't alter the fact that you are ready to fall down and kiss the
feet of that little insect. And I don't want to prevent you--do it,
fall down and kiss his feet. But I want to know, what it is that
fascinates you--what is it?'
She was silent, suffused with black rage.
'How DARE you come brow-beating me,' she cried, 'how dare you, you
little squire, you bully. What right have you over me, do you think?'
His face was white and gleaming, she knew by the light in his eyes that
she was in his power--the wolf. And because she was in his power, she
hated him with a power that she wondered did not kill him. In her will
she killed him as he stood, effaced him.
'It is not a question of right,' said Gerald, sitting down on a chair.
She watched the change in his body. She saw his clenched, mechanical
body moving there like an obsession.


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