Lady Chatterley's Lover

he said, it’s, not doing anything,’ she said.
    ‘How did it get there?’ he said.
    ‘By travelling,’ she said.
    Why, oh why, did he marry her? He could have married anybody, he did and it turned out to be her.
    At last Mellors heaved the back of the chair off the ground, with one foot he tried to loosen the wheels, but the six-stone eight-pound disadvantage activated and the chair sank back. Clifford was clutching the sides, ’I’ll take a run at it, my lady,’ said Mellors.
    He walked back a good fifty yards, turned and started a run gathering speed as he neared the chair. Alas, he missed, shot past it and collided with a tree.
    ‘Thank you, Mellors,’ said Sir Clifford. ‘But that hasn’t been much help.’
    Mellors explained his next plan, if my lady pushed this wheel while I pull the other.’ He heaved while she tugged, the chair reeled.
    ‘For God’s sake,’ cried Sir Clifford in terror.
    Too late, the brake came off, the chair started to run backwards down the hill.
    ‘Some one stop it,’ shouted the disappearing lord.
    Mellors and Constance set off in pursuit.
    ‘The brakes, your lordship,’ shouted Mellors.
    He could see the lord struggling with them.
    ‘Do as Mellors says, darling,’ shouted Constance after him.
    To make matters worse, the engine started up again. Mellors drew abreast of the chair and managed to put two stones under the wheels bringing it to a halt. Clouds of engine enveloped the hapless lord.
    ‘Are you all right in there?’ cooed Constance. ‘We’ll come in and see you when it’s cleared.’
    Mellors sat on a grassy bank gasping for breath.
    ‘Are you all right?’ said Constance.
    ‘Aye, that pneumonia took a lot out of me,’ he said.
    ‘Oh, did you ever get any of it back?’ she said.
    He shook his head, but not normally, no it was manually operated. He grabbed each ear in a hand, then agitated his head from left to right.
    Constance looked at him puzzled. ‘Are you a Mason?’ she said.
    He nodded, this he did by grasping the hair on the back of his head, gripping his nose with his other hand and levering it back and forth. Both of these were secret masonic recognition signals to fellow masons. He told Constance he reached the level of the Red Cross degree and Babalonis Pass.
    ‘Did you hear that, darling, Mellors is a Mason, he said he joined because it leads to big business city deals and banking.’
    ‘Well, before that happens, can he push this bloody wheelchair home,’ said Sir Clifford.
    Mellors agreed to push the chair. ‘Though’, he said, ‘it will delay my entry into the world of big city deals and banking.’
    He rose from the grassy bank.
    ‘Can you carry this for me, your ladyship?’ he said and handed her the dead pigeon.
    ‘Are you ready, Sir Clifford,’ said Mellors.
    ‘Am I ready??!!’ exploded Clifford.
    ‘I don’t know, sir,’ said Mellors. ‘Are you?’
    ‘Look!’ said Clifford, ’I’m a Mason too, if you don’t start pushing, I’ll write to your Lodge and have your Babalonish Pass annulled!’
    Mellors took the stones from under the wheels. Taking hold of the back he gave the chair a push to the limit of his strength.
    ‘Brother Mason, what are you doing back there!’ said Sir Clifford.
    An exhausted voice said, 49 ‘I’ve just given the chair a push to the limit of my strength.’
    ‘Is that why you’re lying down?’ said Sir Clifford.
    The supine figure on the grass verge didn’t answer, is he dead?’ said Sir Clifford.
    ‘No,’ said Constance tenderly. ‘He’s recovering from pneumonia.’
    ‘Does he have to do it here?’ he said angrily. ‘Can’t he do it at home?’
    Mellors arose, ’I’m all right now, sir, just getting my breath back,’ he said.
    ‘Oh, it’s back is it?’ said the hardhearted 50 Sir Clifford. ‘Off we go then.’
    Again, like some race-memory, he took hold of the back of the chair. At an angle of forty-five degrees he strained to move the chair, he strained again and suffered a prolapse which he pushed back in by hand, but there was no ‘Off we go then’.
    ‘Why aren’t we off we go then?’ said an end of his tether Sir Clifford. In a moment of desperate anguish he said to Constance, ‘Darling, do you think I will ever see my home again?’
    ‘Don’t worry, darling,’ said Constance assuringly. ‘We’ll make it.’
    ‘Yes, but will he ? said Clifford.
    ‘Look, sir,’ said Mellors. ‘We’ll make it if her ladyship helps push as well.’
    Sir