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类型【址:a g 9 559⒐ v i p】1:塞佩洛娃 大小:IlrU9QS267452KB 下载:Lhy8B8C645946次
版本:v57705 系统:Android3.8.x以上 好评:6vgNZMUa41276条
日期:2020-08-07 09:13:15
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王玺玉

1.【址:a g 9 559⒐ v i p】1  Chapter 7
2.  `Will Connie go?' asked Clifford.
3.  `In what way doesn't it suit her?' he asked stiffly.
4.  She wondered very much about him; he seemed so unlike a game-keeper, so unlike a working-man anyhow; although he had something in common with the local people. But also something very uncommon.
5.  But early in 1918 Clifford was shipped home smashed, and there was no child. And Sir Geoffrey died of chagrin.
6.  He turned aside, working his hands furiously in his trousers pockets. That evening he said to her:

计划指导

1.  It was strange...the prostitution to the bitch-goddess. To Connie, since she was really outside of it, and since she had grown numb to the thrill of it, it was again nothingness. Even the prostitution to the bitch-goddess was nothingness, though the men prostituted themselves innumerable times. Nothingness even that.
2.  There were people staying in the house, among them Clifford's Aunt Eva, Lady Bennerley. She was a thin woman of sixty, with a red nose, a widow, and still something of a grande dame. She belonged to one of the best families, and had the character to carry it off. Connie liked her, she was so perfectly simple and [rank, as far as she intended to be frank, and superficially kind. Inside herself she was a past-mistress in holding her own, and holding other people a little lower. She was not at all a snob: far too sure of herself. She was perfect at the social sport of coolly holding her own, and making other people defer to her.
3.  Their eyes met. His had a cold, ugly look of dislike and contempt, and indifference to what would happen. Hers were hot with rebuff.
4.  `Why,' he began, in the broad slow dialect. `Your Ladyship's as welcome as Christmas ter th' hut an' th' key an' iverythink as is. On'y this time O' th' year ther's bods ter set, an' Ah've got ter be potterin' abaht a good bit, seein' after 'em, an' a'. Winter time Ah ned 'ardly come nigh th' pleece. But what wi' spring, an' Sir Clifford wantin' ter start th' pheasants...An' your Ladyship'd non want me tinkerin' around an' about when she was 'ere, all the time.'
5.  `Nowhere! He was a Tevershall boy...son of a collier, I believe.'
6.  `No, Sir!' came the ready, neutral words.

推荐功能

1.  Curious, she thought, that that thin, proud man should have that little, sharp woman for a mother!
2.  `Connie and I will discuss it,' he said.
3.  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
4.  And thus far it was a life: in the void. For the rest it was non-existence. Wragby was there, the servants...but spectral, not really existing. Connie went for walks in the park, and in the woods that joined the park, and enjoyed the solitude and the mystery, kicking the brown leaves of autumn, and picking the primroses of spring. But it was all a dream; or rather it was like the simulacrum of reality. The oak-leaves were to her like oak-leaves seen ruffling in a mirror, she herself was a figure somebody had read about, picking primroses that were only shadows or memories, or words. No substance to her or anything...no touch, no contact! Only this life with Clifford, this endless spinning of webs of yarn, of the minutiae of consciousness, these stories Sir Malcolm said there was nothing in, and they wouldn't last. Why should there be anything in them, why should they last? Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. Sufficient unto the moment is the appearance of reality.
5.   `I wondered what the hammering was,' she said, feeling weak and breathless, and a little afraid of him, as he looked so straight at her.
6.  And as it spread in him, Connie felt it spread in her. An inward dread, an emptiness, an indifference to everything gradually spread in her soul. When Clifford was roused, he could still talk brilliantly and, as it were, command the future: as when, in the wood, he talked about her having a child, and giving an heir to Wragby. But the day after, all the brilliant words seemed like dead leaves, crumpling up and turning to powder, meaning really nothing, blown away on any gust of wind. They were not the leafy words of an effective life, young with energy and belonging to the tree. They were the hosts of fallen leaves of a life that is ineffectual.

应用

1.  Connie only half heard this piece of novel, masculine information. She was only stunned by his feeling against her...his incomprehensible brutality. She felt so innocent.
2.  `Connie Mellors! Well, that's a nice name! And did you come out with your Daddy, and he shot a pussy? But it was a bad pussy!'
3.  And Clifford the same. All that talk! All that writing! All that wild struggling to push hims
4、  In the wood all was utterly inert and motionless, only great drops fell from the bare boughs, with a hollow little crash. For the rest, among the old trees was depth within depth of grey, hopeless inertia, silence, nothingness.
5、  Nevertheless he too was a rebel: rebelling even against his class. Or perhaps rebel is too strong a word; far too strong. He was only caught in the general, popular recoil of the young against convention and against any sort of real authority. Fathers were ridiculous: his own obstinate one supremely so. And governments were ridiculous: our own wait-and-see sort especially so. And armies were ridiculous, and old buffers of generals altogether, the red-faced Kitchener supremely. Even the war was ridiculous, though it did kill rather a lot of people.

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网友评论(RspDR08q46599))

  • 高华俊 08-06

      `Thou still unravished bride of quietness,' he quoted. `It seems to fit flowers so much better than Greek vases.'

  • 亚历山大·达维坚科 08-06

      Clifford made big eyes: it was all stuff to him. Connie secretly laughed to herself.

  • 塔克洛班 08-06

       The queer thing was, he didn't. He came back towards tea-time with a large handful of violets and lilies, and the same hang-dog expression. Connie wondered sometimes if it were a sort of mask to disarm opposition, because it was almost too fixed. Was he really such a sad dog?

  • 郭振明 08-06

      `Connie's looking awfully unwell,' she said in her soft voice, fixing him with her beautiful, glowering grey eyes. She looked so maidenly, so did Connie; but he well knew the tone of Scottish obstinacy underneath.

  • 李明滋 08-05

    {  `He was. But his wife went off with...with various men...but finally with a collier at Stacks Gate, and I believe she's living there still.'

  • 郑乐 08-04

      `I do! this is the old England, the heart of it; and I intend to keep it intact.'}

  • 周瑟瑟 08-04

      `She's a useful nonentity!' he said. Connie opened her eyes in wonder, but she did not contradict him. So different are impressions on two different people!

  • 田沁鑫 08-04

      Connie did a mild form of war-work, and consorted with the flannel-trousers Cambridge intransigents, who gently mocked at everything, so far. Her `friend' was a Clifford Chatterley, a young man of twenty-two, who had hurried home from Bonn, where he was studying the technicalities of coal-mining. He had previously spent two years at Cambridge. Now he had become a first lieutenant in a smart regiment, so he could mock at everything more becomingly in uniform.

  • 达沙尼 08-03

       And he soon became rather superb, somewhat lordly with the nurse. She had rather expected it, and he played up without knowing. So susceptible we are to what is expected of us! The colliers had been so like children, talking to her, and telling her what hurt them, while she bandaged them, or nursed them. They had always made her feel so grand, almost super-human in her administrations. Now Clifford made her feel small, and like a servant, and she accepted it without a word, adjusting herself to the upper classes.

  • 曹新元 08-01

    {  Unjust! Unjust! The sense of deep physical injustice burned to her very soul.

  • 杨致远 08-01

      `Very well!' she said. `I'll see to it.'

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