He was a man in dark-green velveteens and gaiters … the old style, with a red face and red moustache and distant eyes. He was going quickly down hill.
“Mellors!” called Clifford.
The man faced lightly round, and saluted with a quick little gesture, a soldier!
“Will you turn the chair round and get it started? That makes it easier,” said Clifford.
The man at once slung his gun over his shoulder, and came forward with the same curious swift, yet soft movements, as if keeping invisible. He was moderately tall and lean, and was silent. He did not look at Connie at all, only at the chair.
“Connie, this is the new gamekeeper, Mellors. You haven’t spoken to her ladyship yet, Mellors?”
“No, Sir!” came the ready, neutral words.
The man lifted his hat as he stood, showing his thick, almost fair hair. He stared straight into Connie’s eyes, with a perfect, fearless, impersonal look, as if he wanted to see what she was like. He made her feel shy. She bent her head to him shyly, and he changed his hat to his left hand and made her a slight bow, like a gentleman; but he said nothing at all. He remained for a moment still, with his hat in his hand.
“But you’ve been here some time, haven’t you?” Connie said to him.
“Eight months, Madam … your Ladyship!” he corrected himself calmly.