Маленькие женщины

Under the Umbrella

           

           Joheardthat,butmadenoanswer,excepttokisshermother,andwalkrapidlyaway,thinkingwithaglowofgratitude,inspiteofherheartache,"Howgoodsheistome!Whatdogirlsdowhohaven’tanymotherstohelpthemthroughtheirtroubles?"

           Thedry-goodsstoreswerenotdownamongthecounting-houses,banks,andwholesalewarerooms,wheregentlemenmostdocongregate,butJofoundherselfinthatpartofthecitybeforeshedidasingleerrand,loiteringalongasifwaitingforsomeone,examiningengineeringinstrumentsinonewindowandsamplesofwoolinanother,withmostunfeminineinterest,tumblingoverbarrels,beinghalf-smotheredbydescendingbales,andhustledunceremoniouslybybusymenwholookedasiftheywondered‘howthedeuceshegotthere’.Adropofrainonhercheekrecalledherthoughtsfrombaffledhopestoruinedribbons.Forthedropscontinuedtofall,andbeingawomanaswellasalover,shefeltthat,thoughitwastoolatetosaveherheart,shemightherbonnet.Nowsherememberedthelittleumbrella,whichshehadforgottentotakeinherhurrytobeoff,butregretwasunavailing,andnothingcouldbedonebutborrowoneorsubmittoadrenching.Shelookedupattheloweringsky,downatthecrimsonbowalreadyfleckedwithblack,forwardalongthemuddystreet,thenonelong,lingeringlookbehind,atacertaingrimywarehouse,with‘Hoffmann,Swartz,&Co.’overthedoor,andsaidtoherself,withasternlyreproachfulair...

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