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ʹڻԱע:ŮӾֽܴ̳ôˣʦƵѾΥ

2020-08-10 11:48:05  Դձ
ʹڻԱעᳵѩ˹ 

ʹڻԱעᣨ

ʹڻԱעַ:a g 9 559 v i p

She had been supposed to have rather a good figure, but now she was out of fashion: a little too female, not enough like an adolescent boy. She was not very tall, a bit Scottish and short; but she had a certain fluent, down-slipping grace that might have been beauty. Her skin was faintly tawny, her limbs had a certain stillness, her body should have had a full, down-slipping richness; but it lacked something.

ʹڻԱעᣨ廭

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

`Oh, but I do think we honestly like one another,' said Hammond.

`Oh, you'd no right t'ave bothered, Lady Chatterley, I'm sure! I'm sure it was very good of you, but you shouldn't 'ave bothered. Why, did ever you see!'---and the old woman turned to the child: `Fancy Lady Chatterley takin' all that trouble over yer! Why, she shouldn't 'ave bothered!'

ʹڻԱעᣨ ɻ

`You lovely lad!' said Tommy. `No, my cherub, nine times out of ten, no! Love's another of those half-witted performances today. Fellows with swaying waists fucking little jazz girls with small boy buttocks, like two collar studs! Do you mean that sort of love? Or the joint-property, make-a-success-of-it, My-husband-my-wife sort of love? No, my fine fellow, I don't believe in it at all!'<`Afternoon, my Lady!' He saluted and turned abruptly away. She had wakened the sleeping dogs of old voracious anger in him, anger against the self-willed female. And he was powerless, powerless. He knew it!

`I'll come to you,' she said.

ʹڻԱעᣨйҶ ۻ

`Oh...it perfects the intimacy,' said Clifford, uneasy as a woman in such talk.

Their eyes met. His had a cold, ugly look of dislike and contempt, and indifference to what would happen. Hers were hot with rebuff.

The worst of it was, Clifford tended to become vague, absent, and to fall into fits of vacant depression. It was the wound to his psyche coming out. But it made Connie want to scream. Oh God, if the mechanism of the consciousness itself was going to go wrong, then what was one to do? Hang it all, one did one's bit! Was one to be let down absolutely?

ʹڻԱעᣨͻ

Her father warned her again: `Why don't you get yourself a beau, Connie? Do you all the good in the world.'

ƷͼƬԻʹڻԱעᣩ

(ࣺӱӱ)

ʹڻԱער

ʹڻԱעƼĶ

ʹڻԱע⽻ʲ׶ӦԺƽʽƽ `My dear Clifford, think of the way we talk each other over, all of us. I'm rather worse than anybody else, myself. Because I infinitely prefer the spontaneous spite to the concocted sugaries; now they are poison; when I begin saying what a fine fellow Clifford is, etc., etc., then poor Clifford is to be pitied. For God's sake, all of you, say spiteful things about me, then I shall know I mean something to you. Don't say sugaries, or I'm done.' ϸ

人""Ϣʵ,ʯ͡ʯվӪҵ| ̵2018|Ժͳ賿ʿΪŶӼ

ʹڻԱעƽйǰɰűŷǿ To her it meant nothing except that she gave herself to him. And at length he ceased to quiver any more, and lay quite still, quite still. Then, with dim, compassionate fingers, she stroked his head, that lay on her breast. ϸ

ʹڻԱעԪ͵סСɵۣȴů| ̵2018|֯¹ڲδ"" ҪȫŽ
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