I suppose it isn't really so, so terrible, but I wouldn't say it's worth the time unless you are an avid fan of Lawrence.
My word of advice would be to read the first two last, as they're the worst ones, and will possibly poison your feelings for the book such that by the time you get to “The Fox” you're too annoyed to enjoy it. So, read “The Fox” first, or maybe even only.
“Love Among the Haystacks” is incredibly inconsequential and dry. It could have never been written. It also has dialogue written in dialect which is annoying and hard to follow.
“The Ladybird” was somewhat entertaining, but still, underwhelming. The one romantic idea I enjoyed was seated at the very end—the concept of a “night wife.” To be a man's wife only at night, only in the dark, only in the underworld, but by the light of day the two are nothing. Intriguing. It's a shame he didn't find a way to go further with that.
Here is one quote from this one which spoke to me:
“There was a certain width of brow and even of chin that spoke a strong, reckless nature, and the curious, distraught slant of her eyes told of a wild energy dammed up inside her. That was what ailed her: her own wild energy. She had it from her father, and from her father's desperate race. [...] Daphne had married an adorable husband: truly an adorable husband. Whereas she needed a dare-devil. But in her mind she hated all dare-devils: she had been brought up by her mother to admire only the good.
So, her reckless, anti-philanthropic passion could find no outlet-and should find no outlet, she thought. So her own blood turned against her, beat on her own nerves, and destroyed her. It was nothing but frustration and anger which made her ill, and made the doctors fear consumption. There it was, drawn on her rather wide mouth: frustration, anger, bitterness. There it was the same in the roll of her green-blue eyes, a slanting, averted look: the same anger furtively turning back on itself.
This anger reddened her eyes and shattered her nerves.
And yet her whole will was fixed in her adoption of her mother's creed, and in condemnation of her handsome, proud, brutal father, who had made so much misery in the family. Yes, her will was fixed in the determination that life should be gentle and good and benevolent.
Whereas her blood was reckless, the blood of dare-devils.
Her will was the stronger of the two. But her blood had its revenge on her. So it is with strong natures to-day: shattered from the inside.”
Do not read this on account of the quote above though, for he doesn't really delve much deeper into this. That is my trouble with this set of stories, and my trouble with shorter fiction in general. Of course it can be done well, like “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,” but most of the time a novella is a novella because it comes from an idea not developed enough, or substantial enough, to be a novel! That may be why I find them generally uncompelling.