"He was still in his shirtsleeves and, bending forwards under the lamplight, with his knees stuck wide apart and the book in his hand, and his whole figure absorbed in the rather strenuous business of reading, he gave Banford's sitting room the look of a lumber camp. She resented this. For on her sitting room floor she had a red Turkey rug and dark stain round, the fireplace had fashionable green tiles, the piano stood open with the latest dance music ... and on the walls were March's hand-painted swans and water lilies. Moreover, with the logs nicely, tremulously burning in the grate, the thick curtains drawn, the doors all shut and the pine trees hissing and shuddering in the wind outside, it was cosy, refined and nice. She resented the big, raw, long-legged youth sticking his khaki knees out and sitting there with his soldier's shirt cuffs buttoned on his thick red wrists. From time to time he turned a page, and from time to time he gave a sharp look at the fire, settling the logs. Then he immersed himself again in the intense and isolated business of reading."
From The Fox by D.H. Lawrence.
