When she came with her flowers，panting to the hut，he had already started a fire，and the twigs were crackling.Her sharp breasts rose and fell，her hair was plastered down with rain，her face was flushed ruddy and her body glistened and trickled.Wide-eyed and breathless，with a small wet head and full，trickling，na?ve haunches，she looked another creature.
He took the old sheet and rubbed her down，she standing like a child.
Then he rubbed himself having shut the door of the hut.The fire was blazing up.She ducked her head in the other end of the sheet，and rubbed her wet hair.
'We're drying ourselves together on the same towel，we shall quarrel！'
he said.
She looked up for a moment，her hair all odds and ends.
'No！'she said，her eyes wide.'It's not a towel，it's a sheet.'And she went on busily rubbing her head，while he busily rubbed his.
Still panting with their exertions，each wrapped in an army blanket，but the front of the body open to the fire，they sat on a log side by side before the blaze，to get quiet.Connie hated the feel of the blanket against her skin.But now the sheet was all wet.
She dropped her blanket and kneeled on the clay hearth，holding her head to the fire，and shaking her hair to dry it.He watched the beautiful curving drop of her haunches.That fascinated him today.How it sloped with a rich down-slope to the heavy roundness of her buttocks！And in between，folded in the secret warmth，the secret entrances！
He stroked her tail with his hand，long and subtly taking in the curves and the globe-fullness.
'Tha's got such a nice tail on thee，'he said，in the throaty caressive dialect.'Tha's got the nicest arse of anybody.It's the nicest，nicest woman's arse as is！An'ivery bit of it is woman，woman sure as nuts.Tha'rt not one o'them button-arsed lasses as should be lads，are ter！Tha's got a real soft sloping bottom on thee，as a man loves in 'is guts.It's a bottom as could hold the world up，it is！'
All the while he spoke he exquisitely stroked the rounded tail，till it seemed as if a slippery sort of fire came from it into his hands.And his finger-tips touched the two secret openings to her body，time after time，with a soft little brush of fire.
'An'if tha shits an'if tha pisses，I'm glad.I don't want a woman as couldna shit nor piss.'
Connie could not help a sudden snort of astonished laughter，but he went on unmoved.
'Tha'rt real，tha art！Tha'art real，even a bit of a bitch.Here tha shits an'here tha pisses：an'I lay my hand on 'em both an'like thee for it.I like thee for it.Tha's got a proper，woman's arse，proud of itself.It's none ashamed of itself this isna.'
He laid his hand close and firm over her secret places，in a kind of close greeting.
'I like it，'he said.'I like it！An'if I only lived ten minutes，an'
stroked thy arse an'got to know it，I should reckon I'd lived one life，see ter！Industrial system or not！Here's one o'my lifetimes.'
She turned round and climbed into his lap，clinging to him.'Kiss me！'
she whispered.
And she knew the thought of their separation was latent in both their minds，and at last she was sad.
She sat on his thighs，her head against his breast，and her ivory-gleaming legs loosely apart，the fire glowing unequally upon them.Sitting with his head dropped，he looked at the folds of her body in the fire-glow，and at the fleece of soft brown hair that hung down to a point between her open thighs.He reached to the table behind，and took up her bunch of flowers，still so wet that drops of rain fell on to her.
'Flowers stops out of doors all weathers，'he said.'They have no houses.'
'Not even a hut！'she murmured.
With quiet fingers he threaded a few forget-me-not flowers in the fine brown fleece of the mound of Venus.
'There！'he said.'There's forget-me-nots in the right place！'
She looked down at the milky odd little flowers among the brown maiden-hair at the lower tip of her body.
'Doesn't it look pretty！'she said.
'Pretty as life，'he replied.
And he stuck a pink campion-bud among the hair.
'There！That's me where you won't forget me！That's Moses in the bull-rushes.'
'You don't mind，do you，that I'm going away？'she asked wistfully，looking up into his face.
But his face was inscrutable，under the heavy brows.He kept it quite blank.
'You do as you wish，'he said.
And he spoke in good English.
'But I won't go if you don't wish it，'she said，clinging to him.
There was silence.He leaned and put another piece of wood on the fire.
The flame glowed on his silent，abstracted face.She waited，but he said nothing.
'Only I thought it would be a good way to begin a break with Clifford.
I do want a child.And it would give me a chance to，to--，'she resumed.
'To let them think a few lies，'he said.
'Yes，that among other things.Do you want them to think the truth？'
'I don't care what they think.'
'I do！I don't want them handling me with their unpleasant cold minds，not while I'm still at Wragby.They can think what they like when I'm finally gone.'
He was silent.
'But Sir Clifford expects you to come back to him？'
'Oh，I must come back，'she said：and there was silence.
'And would you have a child in Wragby？'he asked.
She closed her arm round his neck.
'If you wouldn't take me away，I should have to，'she said.
'Take you where to？'
'Anywhere！away！But right away from Wragby.'
'When？'
'Why，when I come back.'
'But what's the good of coming back，doing the thing twice，if you're once gone？'he said.
'Oh，I must come back.I've promised！I've promised so faithfully.Besides，I come back to you，really.'
'To your husband's game-keeper？'
'I don't see that that matters，'she said.
'No？'He mused a while.'And when would you think of going away again，then；finally？When exactly？'
'Oh，I don't know.I'd come back from Venice.And then we'd prepare everything.'
'How prepare？'
'Oh，I'd tell Clifford.I'd have to tell him.'
'Would you！'
He remained silent.She put her arms round his neck.
'Don't make it difficult for me，'she pleaded.
'Make what difficult？'
'For me to go to Venice and arrange things.'
