Американская трагедия

Chapter 17

           

           "Mamma,Ijustcan’tbelieveitcanbeClyde,"wasallEstacouldsaynow."Itjustcan’tbe,canit?"

           ButMrs.Griffithsmerelycontinuedtostareatthatominousheadline,thenswiftlyranhergray-blueeyesovertheroom.Herbroadfacewasblanchedanddignifiedbyanenormousstrainandanenormouspain.Hererring,misguided,nodoubtunfortunate,son,withallhiswilddreamsofgettingonandup,wasindangerofdeath,ofbeingelectrocutedforacrimeformurder!Hehadkilledsomeoneapoorworking-girl,thepapersaid.

           "Ssh!"shewhispered,puttingonefingertoherownlipsasasign."He"(indicatingAsa)"mustnotknowyet,anyhow.Wemustwirefirst,orwrite.Youcanhavetheanswerscometoyou,maybe.Iwillgiveyouthemoney.ButImustsitdownsomewherenowforaminute.Ifeelalittleweak.I’llsithere.LetmehavetheBible."

           OnthesmalldresserwasaGideonBible,which,sittingontheedgeofthecommonplaceironbed,shenowopenedinstinctivelyatPsalms3and4.

           "Lord,howaretheyincreasedthattrouble."

           "Hearme,whenIcall,OGodofmyrighteousness."

           Andthenreadingonsilently,evenplacidlyapparently,through6,8,10,13,23,91,whileEstastoodbyinsilentamazementandmisery.

           "Oh,Mamma,Ijustcan’tbelieveit.Oh,thisistooterrible!"ButMrs.Griffithsreadon.

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