`Ihadtocomeandseethechickens!’shesaid，panting，glancingshylyatthekeeper，almostunawareofhim。`Arethereanymore？’
　　`Thurty-sixsofar!’hesaid。`Notbad!’
　　Hetootookacuriouspleasureinwatchingtheyoungthingscomeout。
　　Conniecrouchedinfrontofthelastcoop。Thethreechickshadrunin。Butstilltheircheekyheadscamepokingsharplythroughtheyellowfeathers，thenwithdrawing，thenonlyonebeadylittleheadeyeingforthfromthevastmother-body。
　　`I’dlovetotouchthem，’shesaid，puttingherlingersgingerlythroughthebarsofthecoop。Butthemother-henpeckedatherhandfiercely，andConniedrewbackstartledandfrightened。
　　`Howshepecksatme!Shehatesme!’shesaidinawonderingvoice。
　　`ButIwouldn’thurtthem!’
　　Themanstandingaboveherlaughed，andcroucheddownbesideher，kneesapart，andputhishandwithquietconfidenceslowlyintothecoop。Theoldhenpeckedathim，butnotsosavagely。Andslowly，softly，withsuregentlelingers，hefeltamongtheoldbird’sfeathersanddrewoutafaintly-peepingchickinhisclosedhand。
　　`There!’hesaid，holdingouthishandtoher。Shetookthelittledrabthingbetweenherhands，andthereitstood，onitsimpossiblelittlestalksoflegs，itsatomofbalancinglifetremblingthroughitsalmostweightlessfeetintoConnie’shands。Butitlifteditshandsome，clean-shapedlittleheadboldly，andlookedsharplyround，andgavealittle`peep’。`Soadorable!
　　Socheeky!’shesaidsoftly。
　　Thekeeper，squattingbesideher，wasalsowatchingwithanamusedfacetheboldlittlebirdinherhands。Suddenlyhesawatearfallontoherwrist。
　　Andhestoodup，andstoodaway，movingtotheothercoop。Forsuddenlyhewasawareoftheoldflameshootingandleapingupinhisloins，thathehadhopedwasquiescentforever。Hefoughtagainstit，turninghisbacktoher。Butitleapt，andleaptdownwards，circlinginhisknees。
　　Heturnedagaintolookather。Shewaskneelingandholdinghertwohandsslowlyforward，blindly，sothatthechickenshouldrunintothemother-henagain。Andtherewassomethingsomuteandforlorninher，compassionflamedinhisbowelsforher。
　　Withoutknowing，hecamequicklytowardsherandcrouchedbesideheragain，takingthechickfromherhands，becauseshewasafraidofthehen，andputtingitbackinthecoop。Atthebackofhisloinstheliresuddenlydartedstronger。
　　Heglancedapprehensivelyather。Herfacewasaverted，andshewascryingblindly，inalltheanguishofhergeneration’sforlornness。Hisheartmeltedsuddenly，likeadropoffire，andheputouthishandandlaidhislingersonherknee。
　　`Youshouldn’tcry，’hesaidsoftly。
　　Butthensheputherhandsoverherfaceandfeltthatreallyherheartwasbrokenandnothingmatteredanymore。
　　Helaidhishandonhershoulder，andsoftly，gently，itbegantotraveldownthecurveofherback，blindly，withablindstrokingmotion，tothecurveofhercrouchingloins。Andtherehishandsoftly，softly，strokedthecurveofherflank，intheblindinstinctivecaress。
　　Shehadfoundherscrapofhandkerchiefandwasblindlytryingtodryherface。
　　`Shallyoucometothehut？’hesaid，inaquiet，neutralvoice。
　　Andclosinghishandsoftlyonherupperarm，hedrewherupandledherslowlytothehut，notlettinggoofhertillshewasinside。Thenheclearedasidethechairandtable，andtookabrown，soldier’sblanketfromthetoolchest，spreadingitslowly。Sheglancedathisface，asshestoodmotionless。
　　Hisfacewaspaleandwithoutexpression，likethatofamansubmittingtofate。
　　`Youliethere，’hesaidsoftly，andheshutthedoor，sothatitwasdark，quitedark。
　　Withaqueerobedience，shelaydownontheblanket。Thenshefeltthesoft，groping，helplesslydesiroushandtouchingherbody，feelingforherface。Thehandstrokedherfacesoftly，softly，withinfinitesoothingandassurance，andatlasttherewasthesofttouchofakissonhercheek。
　　Shelayquitestill，inasortofsleep，inasortofdream。Thenshequiveredasshefelthishandgropingsoftly，yetwithqueerthwartedclumsiness，amongher`clothing。Yetthehandknew，too，howtounclotheherwhereitwanted。Hedrewdownthethinsilksheath，slowly，carefully，rightdownandoverherfeet。Thenwithaquiverofexquisitepleasurehetouchedthewarmsoftbody，andtouchedhernavelforamomentinakiss。Andhehadtocomeintoheratonce，toenterthepeaceonearthofhersoft，quiescentbody。Itwasthemomentofpurepeaceforhim，theentryintothebodyofthewoman。
　　Shelaystill，inakindofsleep，alwaysinakindofsleep。Theactivity，theorgasmwashis，allhis；shecouldstriveforherselfnomore。Eventhetightnessofhisarmsroundher，eventheintensemovementofhisbody，andthespringingofhisseedinher，wasakindofsleep，fromwhichshedidnotbegintorousetillhehadfinishedandlaysoftlypantingagainstherbreast。
　　Thenshewondered，justdimlywondered，why？Whywasthisnecessary？
　　Whyhaditliftedagreatcloudfromherandgivenherpeace？Wasitreal？
　　Wasitreal？
　　Hertormentedmodern-woman’sbrainstillhadnorest。Wasitreal？Andsheknew，ifshegaveherselftotheman，itwasreal。Butifshekeptherselfforherselfitwasnothing。Shewasold；millionsofyearsold，shefelt。Andatlast，shecouldbeartheburdenofherselfnomore。Shewastobehadforthetaking。Tobehadforthetaking。
　　Themanlayinamysteriousstillness。Whatwashefeeling？Whatwashethinking？Shedidnotknow。Hewasastrangemantoher，shedidnotknowhim。Shemustonlywait，forshedidnotdaretobreakhismysteriousstillness。Helaytherewithhisarmsroundher，hisbodyonhers，hiswetbodytouchinghers，soclose。Andcompletelyunknown。Yetnotunpeaceful。
　　Hisverystillnesswaspeaceful。
　　Sheknewthat，whenatlastherousedanddrewawayfromher。Itwaslikeanabandonment。Hedrewherdressinthedarknessdownoverherkneesandstoodafewmoments，apparentlyadjustinghisownclothing。Thenhequietlyopenedthedoorandwentout。
　　Shesawaverybrilliantlittlemoonshiningabovetheafterglowovertheoaks。Quicklyshegotupandarrangedherselfshewastidy。Thenshewenttothedoorofthehut。
　　Allthelowerwoodwasinshadow，almostdarkness。Yettheskyoverheadwascrystal。Butitshedhardlyanylight。Hecamethroughthelowershadowtowardsher，hisfaceliftedlikeapaleblotch。
　　`Shallwegothen？’hesaid。
　　`Where？’
　　`I’llgowithyoutothegate。’
　　Hearrangedthingshisownway。Helockedthedoorofthehutandcameafterher。
　　`Youaren’tsorry，areyou？’heasked，ashewentatherside。
　　`No!No!Areyou？’shesaid。
　　`Forthat!No!’hesaid。Thenafterawhileheadded：`Butthere’stherestofthings。’
　　`Whatrestofthings？’shesaid。
　　`SirClifford。Otherfolks。Allthecomplications。’
　　`Whycomplications？’shesaid，disappointed。
　　`It’salwaysso。Foryouaswellasforme。There’salwayscomplications。’
　　Hewalkedonsteadilyinthedark。
　　`Andareyousorry？’shesaid。
　　`Inaway!’hereplied，lookingupatthesky。`IthoughtI’ddonewithitall。NowI’vebegunagain。’
　　`Begunwhat？’
　　`Life。’
　　`Life!’shere-echoed，withaqueerthrill。
　　`It’slife，’hesaid。`There’snokeepingclear。Andifyoudokeepclearyoumightalmostaswelldie。SoifI’vegottobebrokenopenagain，Ihave。’
　　Shedidnotquiteseeitthatway，butstill`It’sjustlove，’shesaidcheerfully。
　　`Whateverthatmaybe，’hereplied。
　　Theywentonthroughthedarkeningwoodinsilence，tilltheywerealmostatthegate。
　　`Butyoudon’thateme，doyou？’shesaidwistfully。
　　`Nay，nay，’hereplied。Andsuddenlyheheldherfastagainsthisbreastagain，withtheoldconnectingpassion。`Nay，formeitwasgood，itwasgood。Wasitforyou？’
　　`Yes，formetoo，’sheanswered，alittleuntruthfully，forshehadnotbeenconsciousofmuch。
　　Hekissedhersoftly，softly，withthekissesofwarmth。
　　`Ifonlythereweren’tsomanyotherpeopleintheworld，’hesaidlugubriously。
　　Shelaughed。Theywereatthegatetothepark。Heopeneditforher。
　　`Iwon’tcomeanyfurther，’hesaid。
　　`No!’Andsheheldoutherhand，asiftoshakehands。Buthetookitinbothhis。
　　`ShallIcomeagain？’sheaskedwistfully。
　　`Yes!Yes!’
　　Shelefthimandwentacrossthepark。
　　Hestoodbackandwatchedhergoingintothedark，againstthepallorofthehorizon。Almostwithbitternesshewatchedhergo。Shehadconnectedhimupagain，whenhehadwantedtobealone。Shehadcosthimthatbitterprivacyofamanwhoatlastwantsonlytobealone。
　　Heturnedintothedarkofthewood。Allwasstill，themoonhadset。
　　Buthewasawareofthenoisesofthenight，theenginesatStacksGate，thetrafficonthemainroad。Slowlyheclimbedthedenudedknoll。Andfromthetophecouldseethecountry，brightrowsoflightsatStacksGate，smallerlightsatTevershallpit，theyellowlightsofTevershallandlightseverywhere，hereandthere，onthedarkcountry，withthedistantblushoffurnaces，faintandrosy，sincethenightwasclear，therosinessoftheoutpouringofwhite-hotmetal。Sharp，wickedelectriclightsatStacksGate!Anundefinablequickofevilinthem!Andalltheunease，theever-shiftingdreadoftheindustrialnightintheMidlands。Hecouldhearthewinding-enginesatStacksGateturningdowntheseven-o’clockminers。Thepitworkedthreeshifts。
　　Hewentdownagainintothedarknessandseclusionofthewood。Butheknewthattheseclusionofthewoodwasillusory。Theindustrialnoisesbrokethesolitude，thesharplights，thoughunseen，mockedit。Amancouldnolongerbeprivateandwithdrawn。Theworldallowsnohermits。Andnowhehadtakenthewoman，andbroughtonhimselfanewcycleofpainanddoom。Forheknewbyexperiencewhatitmeant。
　　Itwasnotwoman’sfault，norevenlove’sfault，northefaultofsex。
　　Thefaultlaythere，outthere，inthoseevilelectriclightsanddiabolicalrattlingsofengines。There，intheworldofthemechanicalgreedy，greedymechanismandmechanizedgreed，sparklingwithlightsandgushinghotmetalandroaringwithtraffic，therelaythevastevilthing，readytodestroywhateverdidnotconform。Soonitwoulddestroythewood，andthebluebellswouldspringnomore。Allvulnerablethingsmustperishundertherollingandrunningofiron。
　　Hethoughtwithinfinitetendernessofthewoman。Poorforlornthing，shewasnicerthansheknew，andoh!somuchtooniceforthetoughlotshewasincontactwith。Poorthing，shetoohadsomeofthevulnerabilityofthewildhyacinths，shewasn’talltoughrubber-goodsandplatinum，likethemoderngirl。Andtheywoulddoherin!Assureaslife，theywoulddoherin，astheydoinallnaturallytenderlife。Tender!Somewhereshewastender，tenderwithatendernessofthegrowinghyacinths，somethingthathasgoneoutofthecelluloidwomenoftoday。Buthewouldprotectherwithhisheartforalittlewhile。Foralittlewhile，beforetheinsentientironworldandtheMammonofmechanizedgreeddidthembothin，heraswellashim。
　　Hewenthomewithhisgunandhisdog，tothedarkcottage，litthelamp，startedthefire，andatehissupperofbreadandcheese，youngonionsandbeer。Hewasalone，inasilenceheloved。Hisroomwascleanandtidy，butratherstark。Yetthefirewasbright，thehearthwhite，thepetroleumlamphungbrightoverthetable，withitswhiteoil-cloth。HetriedtoreadabookaboutIndia，buttonighthecouldnotread。Hesatbythefireinhisshirt-sleeves，notsmoking，butwithamugofbeerinreach。AndhethoughtaboutConnie。
　　Totellthetruth，hewassorryforwhathadhappened，perhapsmostforhersake。Hehadasenseofforeboding。Nosenseofwrongorsin；hewastroubledbynoconscienceinthatrespect。Heknewthatconsciencewaschieflytearofsociety，orfearofoneself。Hewasnotafraidofhimself。
　　Buthewasquiteconsciouslyafraidofsociety，whichheknewbyinstincttobeamalevolent，partly-insanebeast。
　　Thewoman!Ifshecouldbetherewithhim，aridtherewerenobodyelseintheworld!Thedesireroseagain，hispenisbegantostirlikealivebird。Atthesametimeanoppression，adreadofexposinghimselfandhertothatoutsideThingthatsparkledviciouslyintheelectriclights，weigheddownhisshoulders。She，pooryoungthing，wasjustayoungfemalecreaturetohim；butayoungfemalecreaturewhomhehadgoneintoandwhomhedesiredagain。
　　Stretchingwiththecuriousyawnofdesire，forhehadbeenaloneandapartfrommanorwomanforfouryears，heroseandtookhiscoatagain，andhisgun，loweredthelampandwentoutintothestarrynight，withthedog。DrivenbydesireandbydreadofthemalevolentThingoutside，hemadehisroundinthewood，slowly，softly。Helovedthedarknessaridfoldedhimselfintoit。Itfittedtheturgidityofhisdesirewhich，inspiteofall，waslikeariches；thestirringrestlessnessofhispenis，thestirringfireinhisloins!Oh，ifonlytherewereothermentobewith，tofightthatsparklingelectricThingoutsidethere，topreservethetendernessoflife，thetendernessofwomen，andthenaturalrichesofdesire。Ifonlytherewerementofightsidebysidewith!Butthemenwerealloutsidethere，gloryingintheThing，triumphingorbeingtroddendownintherushofmechanizedgreedorofgreedymechanism。
　　Constance，forherpart，hadhurriedacrossthepark，home，almostwithoutthinking。Asyetshehadnoafterthought。Shewouldbeintimefordinner。
　　Shewasannoyedtofindthedoorsfastened，however，sothatshehadtoring。MrsBoltonopened。
　　`Whythereyouare，yourLadyship!Iwasbeginningtowonderifyou’dgonelost!’shesaidalittleroguishly。`SirCliffordhasn’taskedforyou，though；he’sgotMrLinleyinwithhim，talkingoversomething。Itlooksasifhe’dstaytodinner，doesn’tit，myLady？’
　　`Itdoesrather，’saidConnie。
　　`ShallIputdinnerbackaquarterofanhour？Thatwouldgiveyoutimetodressincomfort。’
　　`Perhapsyou’dbetter。’