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。