Page:Sons and Lovers, 1913, Lawrence.djvu/324

312 held her fast as he looked round. They were safe enough from all but the small, lonely cows over the river. He sunk his mouth on her throat, where he felt her heavy pulse beat under his lips. Everything was perfectly still. There was nothing in the afternoon but themselves.

When she arose, he, looking on the ground all the time, saw suddenly sprinkled on the black, wet beech-roots many scarlet carnation petals, like splashed drops of blood; and red, small splashes fell from her bosom, streaming down her dress to her feet.

“Your flowers are smashed,” he said.

She looked at him heavily as she put back her hair. Suddenly he put his finger-tips on her cheek.

“Why dost look so heavy?” he reproached her.

She smiled sadly, as if she felt alone in herself. He caressed her cheek with his fingers, and kissed her.

“Nay!” he said. “Never thee bother!”

She gripped his fingers tight, and laughed shakily. Then she dropped her hand. He put the hair back from her brows, stroking her temples, kissing them lightly.

“But tha shouldna worrit!” he said softly, pleading.

“No, I don’t worry’!’ she laughed tenderly and resigned.

“Yea, tha does! Dunna thee worrit,” he implored, caressing.

“No!” she consoled him, kissing him.

They had a stiff climb to get to the top again. It took them a quarter of an hour. When he got on to the level grass, he threw off his cap, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and sighed.

“Now we’re back at the ordinary level,” he said.

She sat down, panting, on the tussocky grass. Her cheeks were flushed pink. He kissed her, and she gave way to joy.

“And now I’ll clean thy boots and make thee fit for respectable folk,” he said.

He kneeled at her feet, worked away with a stick and tufts of grass. She put her fingers in his hair, drew his head to her, and kissed it.

“What am I supposed to be doing,” he said, looking at her laughing; “cleaning shoes or dibbling with love? Answer me that!”

“Just whichever I please,” she replied.

“I’m your boot-boy for the time being, and nothing