“Rather horrid to show it so plainly.”
“Then I’ll hide it.”
“Oh, don’t trouble! You almost communicate a thrill to me. I almost feel that it is I who am going off.”
“Well, why don’t you come?”
“We’ve gone over all that. And as a matter of fact, I suppose your greatest thrill comes from being able to say a temporary farewell to all this. Nothing so thrilling, for the moment, as Goodbye-to-it-all! But every parting means a meeting elsewhere. And every meeting is a new bondage.”
“I’m not going to enter any new bondages.”
“Don’t boast, while the gods are listening,” he said.
She pulled up short.
“No! I won’t boast!” she said.
But she was thrilled, none the less, to be going off: to feel bonds snap. She couldn’t help it.
Clifford, who couldn’t sleep, gambled all night with Mrs. Bolton, till she was too sleepy almost to live.
And the day came round for Hilda to arrive. Connie had arranged with Mellors that if everything promised well for their night together, she would hang a green shawl out of the window. If there were frustration, a red one.
Mrs. Bolton helped Connie to pack.
“It will be so good for your ladyship to have a change.”