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

"Sons and Lovers"

Very well; then she would stand
aloof till he said something. It had been coming a long time, this
bursting of the storm in him, when he would come back to her. This
evening there was between them a peculiar condition of suspense.
He worked feverishly and mechanically, so that he could escape from
himself. It grew late. Through the open door, stealthily, came the scent
of madonna lilies, almost as if it were prowling abroad. Suddenly he got
up and went out of doors.
The beauty of the night made him want to shout. A half-moon, dusky gold,
was sinking behind the black sycamore at the end of the garden, making
the sky dull purple with its glow. Nearer, a dim white fence of lilies
went across the garden, and the air all round seemed to stir with scent,
as if it were alive. He went across the bed of pinks, whose keen perfume
came sharply across the rocking, heavy scent of the lilies, and stood
alongside the white barrier of flowers. They flagged all loose, as if
they were panting. The scent made him drunk.


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