Author(s): D. H. Lawrence

Classics/Literature

The fat old porter knocks. Ah me, once more it is dark. Get up again before dawn. A darksky outside, cloudy. The thrilling tinkle of innumerable goat-bells as the first flock entersthe city, such a rippling sound. Well, it must be morning, even if one shivers at it. And atleast it does not rain.That pale, bluish, theatrical light outside, of the first dawn. And a cold wind. We come on tothe wide, desolate quay, the curve of the harbour Panormus. That horrible dawn-pallor of acold sea out there. And here, port mud, greasy: and fish: and refuse. The American girl iswith us, wrapped in her sweater. A coarse, cold, black-slimy world, she seems as if shewould melt away before it. But these frail creatures, what a lot they can go through!