David Herbert Lawrence

best at this time, and was almost happy in his strange blind way. He really

reaped the fruits of the sensual satisfaction she got out of Michaelis' male

passivity erect inside her. But of course he never knew it, and if he had,

he wouldn't have said thank you!

Yet when those days of her grand joyful cheerfulness and stimulus were

gone, quite gone, and she was depressed and irritable, how Clifford longed

for them again! Perhaps if he'd known he might even have wished to get her

and Michaelis together again.

Chapter 4

Connie always had a foreboding of the hopelessness of her affair with

Mick, as people called him. Yet other men seemed to mean nothing to her. She

was attached to Clifford. He wanted a good deal of her life and she gave it

to him. But she wanted a good deal from the life of a man, and this Clifford

did not give her; could not. There were occasional spasms of Michaelis. But,

as she knew by foreboding, that would come to an end. Mick couldn't keep

anything up. It was part of his very being that he must break off any

connexion, and be loose, isolated, absolutely lone dog again. It was his

major necessity, even though he always said: She turned me down!

The world is supposed to be full of possibilities, but they narrow down

to pretty few in most personal experience. There's lots of good fish in the

sea...maybe...but the vast masses seem to be mackerel or herring, and if

you're not mackerel or herring yourself you are likely to find very few good

fish in the sea.

Clifford was making strides into fame, and even money. People came to

see him. Connie nearly always had somebody at Wragby. But if they weren't

mackerel they were herring, with an occasional cat-fish, or conger-eel.

There were a few regular men, constants; men who had been at Cambridge

with Clifford. There was Tommy Dukes, who had remained in the army, and was

a Brigadier-General. `The army leaves me time to think, and saves me from

having to face the battle of life,' he said.

There was Charles May, an Irishman, who wrote scientifically about

stars. There was Hammond, another writer. All were about the same age as

Clifford; the young intellectuals of the day. They all believed in the life

of the mind. What you did apart from that was your private affair, and

didn't much matter. No one thinks of inquiring of another person at what

hour he retires to the privy. It isn't interesting to anyone but the person

<<BackPagesTo menuForward>>