Мартин Иден

Chapter 2

           "IjustcomedowntheCoastononeofthePacificmailsteamers. Shewasbehindtime,an’aroundthePugetSoundportsweworkedlikeniggers,storingcargo-mixedfreight,ifyouknowwhatthatmeans. That’showtheskingotknockedoff." 

           "Oh,itwasn’tthat,"shehastenedtoexplain,inturn. "Yourhandsseemedtoosmallforyourbody." 

           Hischeekswerehot. Hetookitasanexposureofanotherofhisdeficiencies. 

           "Yes,"hesaiddepreciatingly. "Theyain’tbigenoughtostandthestrain. Icanhitlikeamulewithmyarmsandshoulders. Theyaretoostrong,an’whenIsmashamanonthejawthehandsgetsmashed,too." 

           Hewasnothappyatwhathehadsaid. Hewasfilledwithdisgustathimself. Hehadloosedtheguarduponhistongueandtalkedaboutthingsthatwerenotnice. 

           "ItwasbraveofyoutohelpArthurthewayyoudidandyouastranger,"shesaidtactfully,awareofhisdiscomfiturethoughnotofthereasonforit. 

           He,inturn,realizedwhatshehaddone,andintheconsequentwarmsurgeofgratefulnessthatoverwhelmedhimforgothisloose-wordedtongue. 

           "Itwasn’tnothin’atall,"hesaid. "Anyguy’uddoitforanother. Thatbunchofhoodlumswaslookin’fortrouble,an’Arthurwasn’tbotherin’’emnone. Theybuttedinon’m,an’thenIbuttedinontheman’pokedafew. That’swheresomeoftheskinoffmyhandswent,alongwithsomeoftheteethofthegang. Iwouldn’t’a’misseditforanything. WhenIseen 

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