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Mp. Linear shafts was chief superintendent, an elderly man. He did not fully satisfy the Clifford. But he liked Connie, and she was very glad that he came alone, without his wife. Linear stayed for dinner, and Connie hosted, as always - modest, carefully and attentively. It was, and today it is a mistress who was so pleased with the men, with a soft calm and restrained manner. Connie so long played the role of such a russian women that it has become second nature and her. She patiently waited for that moment when I finally was able to  russian women  to himself - to be alone with his thoughts. When she came to my room and left alone, she felt she did not know what to think and feel. What was that person? Do it to it for real? Not really - she felt it. But he was good. It was some sort of warm naive kindness, curious and sudden, which opened him to her womb. But she felt that it could be that for every woman. And yet, despite this, - it was so comforting, so good! He was a passionate, healthy and passionate. - But it could be that with every woman. Russian women was the only female for him. And maybe it was better. After all, he was kind to the female in it, what has never been any other man. Males have been kind to the person in it, but rather cruel to the female, despising her or ignoring it altogether. The men were kind and helpful to Constance Reid or to Lady Chatterley, but to her belly - they were not good. But he did not notice it, or Constance Reid, Lady Chatterley, he just gently and warmly caressed her thighs and chest. She went into the woods the next day. It was a gray, brooding day - and all the trees silently tried to open their buds. Today, she felt it almost in his own body. She came into the clearing, but it was not there. Young chickens, pheasants ran to the stands, in which hens clucked anxiously. Connie sat down and looked at them - and waited. She almost did not notice the chickens. She was waiting for. Time passed slowly, like a dream, but he did not come, he never came here during the day - she was waiting for him, almost hoping to see him. She had to go back to tea. She put herself in, to leave. When she went home, started drizzling rain. "Again the rain?" - Clifford asked when she came to him. "Drizzling a little bit. "She poured herself a cup of tea in silence, lost in thought. She wanted to see a forester today - she had to make sure everything was yesterday's reality. "Read to you?" - Clifford said.

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Russian women picked up a book about India, but now he was not up to the reader. He sat by the fire with a mug of beer. And thought about Connie .In truth, he was sorry about what happened, perhaps more for its own sake. It is something like a premonition. But not a sin and wickedness that happened - oh, no, no conscience tormented him in this regard. He knew that conscience is mainly the fear of man to society, or fear of oneself. He was not afraid of himself. But he was quite consciously afraid of society, which - he instinctively knew it - it was half-mad evil beast. Woman! If only she could be here with him and if anyone in the world no more! The desire arose in him again, his phallus began to move, like a living bird. And at the same time, the horror of what they have to answer to the evil which corrupt shining outside electric lights, weighed heavily on his shoulders. Russian women, poor young creature, for it was just a young female, but a young female, with whom he came in and wanted that again .Stretching, straining with desire, because he was lonely and lived without women for four years - he got up, put on his coat, took his gun, put out the lamp and went back into the starry night, with his dog. Pursued by the desire and the fear of the outside world - he slowly walked around the forest. He loved the dark and bruised her whole being. GCA facilitated his desire, stirring restlessness of his penis, a smoldering fire in his thighs! Oh, if only were more people with whom he could fight against the evil of this brilliant electric, for, to preserve the tenderness in his life, the tenderness of women and the treasure of desire. If only there were men with whom he could fight together! But they were all there, where the glorified evil winning, or trampled stream of mechanical greed and greedy mechanism. Connie hurried through the park to the house, almost anything without thinking. She could not think. It came just in time for dinner. But the door was already locked and she had to call. Mpc. Bolton opened the door to her. russian women and you, my lady! I was beginning to fear that you get lost! - She said a little sly. - But Sir Clifford has not asked about you, he sits mr. Linear, they talk about business. Perhaps it will remain for dinner, what do you think, my lady? ""Yes, probably," - said Connie. "I detain dinner for fifteen minutes, okay? This will give you time to change, slowly." "Yes, it would be better."

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He turned into the dark forest. All was quiet, the moon is gone. But he heard sounds in the stillness of the night - machines in the mines, travelers on the road. He slowly descended the hill. And to top it, he saw flames Staksgeyta, Tavershala yellow lights, lights everywhere, scattered in the dark night - and the distant glow of blast furnaces - pale pink pinkness white-hot metal. Sharp, wicked electric lights Staksgeyta! And this burden of fear and perpetual night on the industrial Midlands! He heard the siren, letting the miners home. The mines were working in three shifts. He again descended into the darkness and solitude of the forest. But he knew that it was the ghostly solitude. Echoes of their way, and here, and the sharp lights, though unseen, - teased him here. The man could not stand alone and distant. The world does not recognize the hermits. And now he's joined up with this woman and this brought on a new pain and death. For he knew it to previous experience. This wine was not a woman, and not love, not sex. Wine was lying there, there, in those evil electric lights and diabolical din of machinery. There, in the mechanical world of greed, greedy machines and greedy people, flashing lights, splashing hot metal and roaring vehicles - there lay a great evil, ready to destroy all that opposed him. Soon, it will destroy and forest. All fine and delicate should be lost under a stream of iron and steel. With infinite tenderness he thought of the woman. The poor lost creature, it was better than she is aware, and so much better than the people with whom she had to live! Poor thing, it was also the fragility, the fragility of wild hyacinths, - it was all like rubber and platinum - as a modern woman. And they will destroy her! This is true as life, - they will destroy it as destroying all esestvennoe and gentle in his life. Gentle! There was something tender, tender bloom of hyacinths, something has disappeared from the cross-godnyashnih women. But he guards the time of her on my heart. For a short time until the insatiable world of Mammon, and the iron fur-nizirovannoy greed does not destroy them both. He walked home with a gun and a dog, to a dark house. He came in and lit the lamp and ate bread and cheese, young onions and beer. He was alone in the silence that is so loved. His room was clean and tidy, although a bit gloomy. But the fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, and the lamp was burning brightly on the table covered with white oilcloth.

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Russian women locked the door of the hut and went for it. "You will not regret, no?" - He asked, walking beside her. "No, no! And you?" - She said. "This is No! - He said. Then a moment later he added: But there are others." "What - the rest?" - She said. "Sir Clifford. Other people. And all sorts of complications." "Why - complications?" - She asked anxiously. "It's all true. As for you and for me. Complications are russian women. "He steadily moved on in the dark. "Are you sorry?" - She asked. "Kind of! - He said, looking at the sky. - I thought I killed it all. And now I started again." "Started what?" "Live!" "Live" - ​​she replied with a strange tremor. "That's life - he said. - This can not be avoided. If you avoid this - you do the dead. And here I must again plunge into life." "This Love" - ​​ russian women  said cheerfully. "Whatever it was," - he replied. They walked through the darkening wood in silence, and finally came to the park. "But you hate me?" - She said earnestly. "No, no," - he replied. And suddenly he held her tightly to his chest, with the old, bringing together their passion. "No, I was so good, so good! And you?" "Yeah, me too" - she said, quite sincerely, because she did not feel pleasure. He gently kissed her. "If only the world were not so many people!" - He said grimly. She laughed. They came to the gate of the park. He opened it. "I will not go on," - he said. "No" - and she gave him her hand, he took it in both of his. "To come to you again?" - She asked. "Yes, yes! "She left him and went quickly through the park. He stood for several minutes, watching as she disappeared into the darkness. He looked after her, almost with grief, she joined him with me, whereas he wanted to be alone.

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Russian women lay quietly in a half-asleep in a dream. Then she shuddered, felt awkward and cautious hand in his clothes, but the hand know how to undress her. He pulled the thin integument slowly, carefully, down to her feet. And with the inexplicable shudder of pleasure he touched her tender hot body and kissed her belly. And he was right to enter into it, to find peace on earth in russian women  soft, motionless body. Time of entry into the woman's body was pure moment of silence and peace for him. She lay quietly in a half-asleep, in the same dream. The activity and orgasm are entirely his, but his, and she could no longer try for yourself. Even his strong embrace, even the intense movement of his body and the flow of his semen in it - it was like a dream from which she started to wake up only when he had finished and lay softly and intermittent breathing on her chest. And she thought vaguely, vaguely thought: "Why? Why all this was necessary, why it is removed from me a great burden, and gave me peace? This was true? "Her tormented mind of the modern woman still could not russian women. Was this true? And she knew that she had given herself a man was true, and that if she kept herself - it would be nothing, emptiness, false. She felt that she was old, old as millions of years. And finally, she could no longer bear the burden itself. She had to give myself to someone who will. The man was lying mysteriously quiet. What does it feel? What was he thinking? She did not know. He was a stranger to her, she did not know it. She could not just wait, because they do not dare to disturb his peace and silence. He lay there, his arms wrap around her, his body was on her body, his wet body touched so close to her body. And he was a stranger to her. But so peaceful. So quiet and peaceful. She realized this when he finally came around and stood up. She again felt lost. In the dark he tucked the dress of her knees and stood a few moments, apparently adjusting his own clothing. Then he quietly opened the door and walked out. She saw a brilliant young moon shining over the oaks. She quickly got up and straightened her dress and walked to the door. Wood was in the twilight, in almost complete darkness. But the sky above was clear. He approached her from the darkness, his face had risen to her as a pale stain." Shall we go?" - He said. "Where?" "I'll take you to the gate to the park."

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Woodman, who was sitting on their haunches beside her, watching with pleasure a little cheeky bird in her hands. And suddenly he saw the tears that fell down on the chicken. He got up and walked away to the other stands. Because he suddenly felt old fire that lights up in his thigh, the fire, which, he hoped - was extinguished forever. But the fire escaped, rushed down and burned in his lap. He turned to her again and looked at her. She was on her knees, holding out his arms forward, cautiously, as the blind, -, so that the chicken could go back to his mother. And it was something dumb and lost - that compassion for her flashed into his guts. Not realizing what he was doing, he quickly approached her, and sank into a crouch, he took the chicken out of her hands because she was afraid of the chicken and put it back in the cage. And in the back of his thighs, the fire flared up even more. He looked at her in awe. She turned her face away and bitterly, crying blindly, with all the desperation of a lost generation. His heart melted suddenly, like a drop of fire, and he laid his hand on her knee. "Do not cry," - he said softly. But she hid her face in her hands and felt that her heart was broken and that the rest of her care. He put his hand on her shoulder, and softly-softly his hand down on her back - the blind, with blind affection - to her hips? Here, his hand gently stroked her round the thigh, with the blind instinctive caress. She found her handkerchief and wiped his russian women for her face. "You come into the hut?" - He asked quietly. And taking her hand, he picked it up and slowly led her to the hut, not letting go of her until she went there. Then he pushed the table and bench, and took the gray army blanket chest, and slowly spread it on the floor. She looked at him and stood still. His face was pale and without expression, like the face of a man coming to what is intended. "Lie down here" - he said softly and closed the door, so that russian women, very dark. In silent obedience, she lay on the blanket. Then she felt in his soft, searching hand, hot and russian women desire, touch her body, searching her face.

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And once,  when she came - she found there two red hens, and fervently guarded incubating pheasant eggs. This picture is shot through the heart of Connie. She herself was so lost and unnecessary - just a bundle of nerves. And soon all five of the stands were occupied by a hen, - three red, one gray and one black. And all of them in their nest eggs, feathers fluffed up with a soft comfortable weight, doing their feminine destiny. They watched Connie's bright eyes, when she approached him, and emit a short, shrill cries of alarm and anger, but mostly - women's resentment against the intrusion into their private affairs. Connie found in the hut sack of grain. She raised chickens some grain in their hands. They did not want to eat. Only one hen pecked russian women hand so angrily that Connie was frightened. She wanted so much to give them anything, this grouchy mothers who did not drink or eat yourself. She brought water in a small circle, and was delighted when a hen began to drink.  Now Connie came to visit the chickens every day. They were the only beings in the world that warmed her heart. Clifford outpouring of cold enveloped from head to toe. Voice of the IFA. Bolton and business travelers who have been in the house - too cold enveloped her. Random letter from russian women filled her the same cold shudder. She felt that, of course, would die if all this will last. And all around it was spring, and in the woods blossomed blue bells, and the buds of trees revealed - as a spray of green rain. How awful that it was spring all around, and people were heartless and cold! Only the hens, fluffed up on eggs, were cordial and warm - these are hot, giving birth to female body! Connie And she always felt that living on the edge of death. And in a lovely sunny day, when the meadows of violets in the ground opens up, and sheaves of lilies of the valley shone under the bushes, - hen she came to and found it a little orderly russian women, who walked in front of the cage is important, then, as a hen-mother terrified clucking. Tiny, slender chicken, gray-brown with dark spots - was the most cheerful creature in the world. Connie looked at him in ecstasy. Life! Life! Pure, sparkling, fearless new life! New life - such a tiny and so fearless!

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Half an hour later Connie heard Clifford talking about something with the IFA. Bolton - with fervor and excitement, revealing itself in a passionate infinite passion for this woman as if she was his russian women. A MRS Bolton carefully dressed in his coat, as expected for dinner guests of important business. Sometimes, Connie felt that he would die from it all. This sensitivity of Vova, this gray lies and idiotic stiffness kill her. Brilliant business skills Clifford terrified her, and plunged the outpouring of his idolatrous her in a panic. Between them there was nothing in common. She even never touched him now and he never touched her. He never took her hand and held it in his hand. He tormented her with his idolatry, precisely because they absolutely do not touch anymore. His cruelty - cruelty was committed impotence. Connie felt that would go mad or die. She ran into the woods where she could. Once, when she sat there, lost in thought, staring at the water gurgling in the "Source of John," the forester came to her. "I got the key for you, my lady," - he said, shaking hands and russian women her the key. "Thank you" - she said, surprised. "The hut is not quite right, sorry. I removed everything I could." "But I asked you not to worry!" - She cried. "Well, what does this worry! - After a week I put the chickens. But they will not have to be afraid. I must look after them in the morning and evening, but I will not bother you more than is necessary." "But you would not bother me" - she defended herself. "It is better I'm not going to come to the lodge, so as not to disturb you. "He looked at her with piercing blue eyes. He was very polite but distant. At least he was healthy, this man, though, and looked thin and sickly. He coughed. "Do you cough!" - She said. "Nonsense, - cold! Last pneumonia russian women I inherited this cough, but it's nothing. "He kept his distance and did not come closer. She often went to the lodge, morning or afternoon, but it was never there. No doubt he deliberately avoided it. He wanted to preserve their solitude. He removed the hut, put a table and chair near the fireplace, placed beside him a small pile of twigs and wood, and removed the instruments and snares as far as possible. Outside, he built a low canopy of straw and stakes and put him under the five stands.

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At the moment a little sassy red head poked out from under the chicken feathers and curiously overlooked the universe.
Connie was in raptures. And at the same time, she had never russian women themselves so acutely the agony of their unwanted females. This feeling becomes unbearably painful russian women.
Now she had only one desire, to go into the woods to the hen. Everything else was like a sick dream. Sometimes she had to stay in Rugby all day and entertain. And she felt then that is nothing, emptiness, just crazy. One night, she fled into the woods after tea, in spite of the guests. It was already quite late, and she flew through the park, as if in fear that it will call back. The sun had set, when she went into the woods, but she crept farther and farther. It will still be light.
All out of breath, she came into the clearing. Woodman was there, with a twist-sleeves, and he was going to lock the cage at night to their little occupants were safe. One small trio still marked time on the weak-legged under a thatched roof, not wanting to go back under the wings of anxious mothers.
"I must come and see the chickens! - She said, russian women looking at the Forester, but almost without noticing it. - There are still small?"
"Total t russian women six - he said - not bad!" Watch as they hatch, gave him great pleasure. Connie quietly crept up to the last cell. Three chicken finally came into it. But their heads are still stuck out from under the wings red hen, and then there was only one head, which stuck out from under the broad parent body.
"I would so like to touch them!" - She said, poking his fingers through the grating cells. But the hen-mother furiously pecked it, and Connie drew back in alarm hand.
"As she pecked me she hates me - she said in surprise. - But I would not do it hurts!"
The man standing over her, laughed, and knelt down beside her. Calmly and confidently, he put his hand into the cage. The old hen pecked and his, but not as fiercely. And slowly, softly, careful fingers he took little food is chicken wings from the mother.
"Here," - he said, handing it to her. She took a small dark-gray creature in his hands, and that it stood in them for their incredibly thin legs - the vibrating atoms of life, trembling in the hands of Connie. He lifted her pretty head, looked around defiantly, and squeaked slightly. "Such a lovely! Such a bold" - she said softly.