David Herbert Lawrence

and bits of food. She took a little milk from the yellow jug.

`How do you get your milk?' she asked him, when she came back to the

table.

`Flints! They leave me a bottle at the warren end. You know, where I

met you!'

But he was discouraged. She poured out the tea, poising the cream-jug.

`No milk,' he said; then he seemed to hear a noise, and looked keenly

through the doorway.

`'Appen we'd better shut,' he said.

`It seems a pity,' she replied. `Nobody will come, will they?'

`Not unless it's one time in a thousand, but you never know.'

`And even then it's no matter,' she said. `It's only a cup of tea.'

`Where are the spoons?'

He reached over, and pulled open the table drawer. Connie sat at the

table in the sunshine of the doorway.

`Flossie!' he said to the dog, who was lying on a little mat at the

stair foot. `Go an' hark, hark!'

He lifted his finger, and his `hark!' was very vivid. The dog trotted

out to reconnoitre.

`Are you sad today?' she asked him.

He turned his blue eyes quickly, and gazed direct on her.

`Sad! no, bored! I had to go getting summonses for two poachers I

caught, and, oh well, I don't like people.'

He spoke cold, good English, and there was anger in his voice. `Do you

hate being a game-keeper?' she asked.

`Being a game-keeper, no! So long as I'm left alone. But when I have to

go messing around at the police-station, and various other places, and

waiting for a lot of fools to attend to me...oh well, I get mad...' and he

smiled, with a certain faint humour.

`Couldn't you be really independent?' she asked.

`Me? I suppose I could, if you mean manage to exist on my pension. I

could! But I've got to work, or I should die. That is, I've got to have

something that keeps me occupied. And I'm not in a good enough temper to

work for myself. It's got to be a sort of job for somebody else, or I should

throw it up in a month, out of bad temper. So altogether I'm very well off

here, especially lately...'

He laughed at her again, with mocking humour.

`But why are you in a bad temper?' she asked. `Do you mean you are

always in a bad temper?'

`Pretty well,' he said, laughing. `I don't quite digest my bile.'

`But what bile?' she said.

`Bile!' he said. `Don't you know what that is?' She was silent, and

disappointed. He was taking no notice of her.

`I'm going away for a while next month,' she said.

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