Explore "Tortoises" by D.H. Lawrence on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Making his advances He does not look at her, nor sniff at her, No, not even sniff at her, his nose is blank.
Only he senses the vulnerable folds of skin That work beneath her while she sprawls along In her ungainly pace, Her folds of skin that work and row Beneath the earth-soiled hovel in which she moves.