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He might have said some few words of consolation or reassurance. But she knew he was leaving her free, free to go back to Wragby and to Clifford. She wished he had said to Clifford: "Yes, she is my lover and my mistress and I am proud of it!" But his courage wouldn't carry him so far. She was angry, with the complicated and confused anger that made her inert. She did not know what to do nor what to say, so she said and did nothing. She went on at Venice just the same, rowing out in the gondola with Duncan Forbes, bathing, letting the days slip by.

Duncan, who had been rather depressingly in love with her ten years ago, was in love with her again. But she said to him: "I only want one thing of men, and that is, that they should leave me alone." real college party sex So Duncan left her alone: really quite pleased to be able to. All the same, he offered her a soft stream of a queer, inverted sort of love. "Have you ever thought," he said to her one day, "how very little people are connected with one another. Yet I bet he has a wife and family, and couldn't possibly go away from them." "Ask him," said Connie.

Daniele said he was married, and had two children, both male, aged seven and nine.

"Perhaps only people who are capable of real togetherness have that look of being alone in the universe," said Connie. "The others have a certain stickiness, they stick to the mass, like Giovanni." "And," she thought to herself, "like you, Duncan." CHAPTER XVIII She had to make up her mind what to do. She would leave Venice on the Saturday that he was leaving Wragby: in six days time. This would bring her to London on the Monday real college party sex following, and she would then see him. She wrote to him to the London address, asking him to send her a letter to Hartland's hotel, and to call for her on the Monday evening at seven. Inside real college party sex herself, she was curiously and complicatedly angry, and all her responses were numb. She refused to confide even in Hilda, and Hilda, offended by her steady silence, had become rather intimate with a Dutch woman. Connie hated these real college party sex rather stifling intimacies between women, intimacy into which Hilda always entered ponderously.

Sir Malcolm decided to travel with Connie, and Duncan could come on with Hilda. The old artist always did himself well: he took berths on the Orient Express, in spite of Connie's dislike of _trains de luxe_, the atmosphere of vulgar depravity there is aboard them nowadays. However, it would make the journey to Paris shorter.

Sir Malcolm was always uneasy going back to his wife. But there would be a house-party for the grouse, and he wanted to be well real college party sex ahead. Connie, sunburnt and handsome, sat in silence, forgetting all about the landscape. "A little dull for you, going back to Wragby," said her father, noticing her glumness. "I'm not sure I shall go back to Wragby," she said, with startling abruptness, looking into his eyes with her big blue eyes. His big blue eyes took real college party sex on the frightened look of a man whose social conscience is not quite clear. I mean never go back to Wragby." He was bothered by his own little problems, and sincerely hoped he was getting none of hers to shoulder. "I'm going to have a child." It was the first time she had uttered the words to any living soul, and it seemed to mark a cleavage in her life. "How _should_ I know!" "But not Clifford's child, of course?" "No! Another man's." She rather enjoyed tormenting him. That's the point." "No patching it up with Clifford?" "I suppose Clifford would take it," said Connie. "He told me, after last time you talked to him, he wouldn't mind if I had a child: so long as I went about it discreetly." "Only sensible thing he could say, under the circumstances. Then I suppose it'll be all right." "In what way?" said Connie, looking into her father's eyes. They were big blue eyes rather like her own, but with a certain uneasiness in them, a look sometimes of an uneasy little boy, sometimes a look of sullen selfishness, usually good-humoured and wary. "You can present Clifford with an heir to all the Chatterleys, and put another baronet in Wragby." Sir Malcolm's face smiled with a half-sensual smile. If you want the truth from me, my child, it's this. The world is more or less a fixed thing, and externally, we have to adapt ourselves to it. Privately, in my private opinion, we can please ourselves. You have an independent income, the only thing that never lets you down.

It's an amusing thing to do." And Sir Malcolm sat back and smiled again.

"I hope you had a real man at last," he said to her after a while, sensually alert. Surely he wouldn't make trouble for you?" "Oh, no! Connie was his favourite daughter, he had always liked the female in her. So he was pleased, and very tender with his daughter, as if the unborn child were his child. He drove with her to Hartland's hotel, and saw her installed: then went round to his club. "I won't come round to your hotel, but I'll wait for you outside the Golden Cock in Adam Street at seven." There he stood, tall and slender, and so different, in a formal suit of thin dark cloth.