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

"Sons and Lovers"

We will be happy?"
"Yes," she murmured, and the tears came to her eyes.
"Some sort of perversity in our souls," he said, "makes us not want, get
away from, the very thing we want. We have to fight against that."
"Yes," she said, and she felt stunned.
As she stood under the drooping-thorn tree, in the darkness by the
roadside, he kissed her, and his fingers wandered over her face. In
the darkness, where he could not see her but only feel her, his passion
flooded him. He clasped her very close.
"Sometime you will have me?" he murmured, hiding his face on her
shoulder. It was so difficult.
"Not now," she said.
His hopes and his heart sunk. A dreariness came over him.
"No," he said.
His clasp of her slackened.
"I love to feel your arm THERE!" she said, pressing his arm against her
back, where it went round her waist. "It rests me so."
He tightened the pressure of his arm upon the small of her back to rest
her.
"We belong to each other," he said.
"Yes."
"Then why shouldn't we belong to each other altogether?"
"But--" she faltered.


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