To D, with mirth.
"You imagined him something he wasn't. That's just what a woman is. She thinks she knows what's good for a man, and she's going to see he gets it; and no matter if he's starving, he may sit and whistle for what he needs, while she's got him, and is giving him what's good for him."
"And what are you doing?" she asked.
"I'm thinking what tune I shall whistle," he laughed.
And instead of boxing his ears, she considered him in earnest.
"You think I want to give you what's good for you?" she asked.
"I hope so; but love should give a sense of freedom, not of prison. Miriam made me feel tired up like a donkey to a stake. I must feed on her patch, and nowhere else. It's sickening!"
"And would you let a woman do as she likes?"
"Yes; I'll see that she likes to love me. If she doesn't--well I don't hold her."
"If you were as wonderful as you say--," replied Clara.
"I should be the marvel I am," he laughed.
There was a silence in which they hated each other, though they laughed.
"Love's a dog in a manger," he said.
"And which of us is the dog?" she asked.
"Oh well, you, of course."
So there went on a battle between them.
-D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers