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DzôǮ:˹Ϊװ4Сʱ 50ִֵֻй

2020-08-05 19:07:30  Դձ
DzôǮ 

DzôǮ

DzôǮַ:a g 9 559 v i p<`It is so nice here, so restful,' she said. `I have never been here before.'`And isn't he married?'

`Yes, I feel something is wrong between men and women. A woman has no glamour for a man any more.'

DzôǮ廭

`Right across the wood! Look, aren't the little daffodils adorable? To think they should come out of the earth!'

Connie looked up at him at last. The child, her child, was just an `it' to him. It...it...it!

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DzôǮ ɻ

He had lapsed into the vernacular. Connie hesitated; he was putting up an opposition. Was it his hut, after all?

`Must one?' said Connie. `If it has to be preserved, and preserved against the new England? It's sad, I know.'

DzôǮйҶ ۻ

`Naturally you don't. I'm afraid you mistake unscrupulousness for generosity.'

`Bolshevism, it seems to me,' said Charlie, `is just a superlative hatred of the thing they call the bourgeois; and what the bourgeois is, isn't quite defined. It is Capitalism, among other things. Feelings and emotions are also so decidedly bourgeois that you have to invent a man without them.

<`Well,' he said, `I don't know. What's the use of my generalizing? I only know my own case. I like women, but I don't desire them. I like talking to them; but talking to them, though it makes me intimate in one direction, sets me poles apart from them as far as kissing is concerned. So there you are! But don't take me as a general example, probably I'm just a special case: one of the men who like women, but don't love women, and even hate them if they force me into a pretence of love, or an entangled appearance.Connie opened the wood-gate, and Clifford puffed slowly through into the broad riding that ran up an incline between the clean-whipped thickets of the hazel. The wood was a remnant of the great forest where Robin Hood hunted, and this riding was an old, old thoroughfare coming across country. But now, of course, it was only a riding through the private wood. The road from Mansfield swerved round to the north.

This little speech, at the moment, was one of the shocks of her life. Because that passive sort of giving himself was so obviously his only real mode of intercourse.

DzôǮͻ

`Why, Connie, I should trust your natural instinct of decency and selection. You just wouldn't let the wrong sort of fellow touch you.'

ƷͼƬDzôǮ

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DzôǮר

DzôǮƼĶ

DzôǮ135ȷʯֳ˿ɹʱƵ `I think people have been so unkind to him,' said Connie. ϸ

人ʮաӢ۵ij,㶨ܹ!| ̵2018|רңС190꣬Ⱥͷձ׸

DzôǮй:7ڿ5622.8,ȷͨ"ʱ" Yet he was absolutely dependent on her, he needed her every moment. Big and strong as he was, he was helpless. He could wheel himself about in a wheeled chair, and he had a sort of bath-chair with a motor attachment, in which he could puff slowly round the park. But alone he was like a lost thing. He needed Connie to be there, to assure him he existed at all. ϸ

DzôǮ᷽Ųȫղ2000ֻӦ㹻| ̵2018|ί׼ӳе人͹Ӧ
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