John Thomas & Lady Jane

her
shoulder as she ran down the hill after Clifford, and stumbling over a rock.
The keeper watched her running, watched her hair shaking, and felt as if in his
own body the shaking of her jolted breasts. To imagine this needed some
concentration and a sexual deviant. Then he turned away down the track striking
at his own erection.
    She found Clifford at the spring.
    ‘She only just did it!’ he said,
looking at his chair.
    The spring was pretty, bubbling in
its brilliantly clear little well.
    ‘I shall drink, I am thirsty,’ said Constance. ‘Will you?’
    ‘I will, yes!’
    She took the little enamel cup that
hung on the tree, and drank, then filled it for him as he sat in his chair.
    ‘Shall we wish?’ said he.
    ‘Yes, let us!’
    ‘Have you thought of something?’ he
said.
    ‘Yes! One mustn’t tell!’
    Next morning they both had dysentery.
    ‘Look,’ said Constance. ‘See the
mole?’
    ‘I will soon sink him,’ he said as he
emptied both barrels into the creature.
    They started home.
    ‘You had better call Soames.’
    ‘Soames,’ called Clifford. ‘Soames!’
    ‘Do you mind pushing me home,
Soames,’ said Clifford. ‘And excuse anything I said,’ he added rather offhand.
    ‘It’s nothing to me, Sir Clifford!’
    ‘It’s nothing to me,’ said Clifford.
    ‘I’ll sit down a minute,’ said
Soames, his eyes unconscious because of the beating of his heart, his hands
trembling.
    Constance looked at him. No, he’d be no good to her
tonight, she thought.
    To Constance, it seemed wonderful
that such sudden strength had come out of the keeper’s body, including a few
postern blasts.
    ‘I can manage,’ said Soames. ‘I would
rather your ladyship let go.’
    Constance wondered whether all this effort wouldn’t take
it out of her lover when she was in his bed tonight. She thought, ‘I am going
to sleep with him tonight’ and he, looking at her, thought ‘I am going to have
her all together tonight’. Little did he know he would have to lie down for two
hours to recover from this effort of pushing the chair. She saw the two men,
one an adulterer and one cuckolded.
    When the motor was running, even a
little, it made it so much easier. Now it was a dead weight and Soames was
gasping for breath.
    Clifford spoke of Sir Malcolm who had
written to ask if Constance could drive with him in his two-seater, across
France, or should they go by train, or else get Hilda to drive them all the
way, all three, in her larger car.
    ‘I’d really rather go by train,’ said
Constance. ‘I don’t like motoring long distances. But I shall do what Hilda
wants.’
    ‘She will want to drive her own car,’
said Clifford. ‘And your father will hate being driven — ’
    ‘I suppose that’s how it will be,’
said Constance. ‘Me in the back with him hating it.’
    They reached the house, and Clifford
was helped into his house chair. Soames collapsed in a heap on the ground.
    ‘Well, thanks awfully, Soames, I’m
afraid it was harder work than you bargained for. Go to the kitchen and have a
glass of water,’ said Clifford.
    ‘No, thank you, Sir Clifford! I’ll be
getting back to th’ wood.’
    He ducked out of his gun, put his
coat on, saluted and, holding his rupture, was gone. But Constance was angry
with Clifford, such a mean bastard, and went upstairs where she went on being
angry with Clifford.
    ‘Soames suffered a nearly broken
blood vessel and pushed you home. Is he the servant-class?’
    ‘No, he is in the
nearly-broke-a-blood-vessel class.’
    ‘He’s not paid to nearly break a
blood vessel but he is a man.’
    ‘Well, one’s got to be one thing or
the other.’ He still had young boys to tea.
    ‘Good God,’ thought Constance, ‘I am
sleeping with him tonight.’
    The night was perfumed with flowers,
though it was too early for honeysuckle. As she went up the slope beyond the
long dip she suddenly asked him:
    ‘Do you feel all right? I was so
afraid you’d strained yourself this morning.’
    ‘No, I’m all right and all my
equipment is in fine fettle.’
    He quietly unlocked the door, and
bolted it when she had entered. There was a red fire, a singing kettle, and the
table set with plates and tea cups and a white cloth.
    ‘Shall you eat something?’ he asked her.
    ‘Yes, something,’ she said, and ate
the alarm-clock. She looked at him and he looked like he didn’t want to eat.
    He pulled off his second boot and set
it beside the fire. God he had big feet. Whenever