[Sons and Lovers by David Herbert Lawrence]@TWC D-Link book
Sons and Lovers

PART TWO
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"You are always sad." "I am not--oh, not a bit!" she cried.
"But even your joy is like a flame coming off of sadness," he persisted.
"You're never jolly, or even just all right." "No," she pondered.

"I wonder--why ?" "Because you're not; because you're different inside, like a pine-tree, and then you flare up; but you're not just like an ordinary tree, with fidgety leaves and jolly--" He got tangled up in his own speech; but she brooded on it, and he had a strange, roused sensation, as if his feelings were new.

She got so near him.

It was a strange stimulant.
Then sometimes he hated her.

Her youngest brother was only five.


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