Американская трагедия

Chapter 9

           Onthelowerfloorseverallightsglowedwithasoftandinvitingradiance.

           Thismood,however,wasbrief.Forsoonthedoorwasopenedbyaservantwhotookhiscoatandinvitedhimintotheverylargelivingroom,whichwasveryimpressive.ToClyde,evenaftertheGreen–DavidsonandtheUnionLeague,itseemedaverybeautifulroom.Itcontainedsomanyhandsomepiecesoffurnitureandsuchrichrugsandhangings.Afireburnedinthelarge,highfireplacebeforewhichwascircledanumberofdivansandchairs.Therewerelamps,atallclock,agreattable.Noonewasintheroomatthemoment,butpresentlyasClydefidgetedandlookedaboutheheardarustlingofsilktotherear,whereagreatstaircasedescendedfromtheroomsabove.AndfromtherehesawMrs.Griffithsapproachinghim,ablandandangularandfaded-lookingwoman.Butherwalkwasbrisk,hermannercourteous,ifnon-committal,aswashercustomalways,andafterafewmomentsofconversationhefoundhimselfpeacefulandfairlycomfortableinherpresence.

           "Mynephew,Ibelieve,"shesmiled.

           "Yes,"repliedClydesimply,andbecauseofhisnervousness,withunusualdignity."IamClydeGriffiths."

           "I’mverygladtoseeyouandtowelcomeyoutoourhome,"beganMrs.Griffithswithacertainamountofaplombwhichyearsofcontactwiththelocalhighworldhadgivenheratlast."Andmychildrenwillbe,too,ofcourse.BellaisnotherejustnoworGilbert,either,butthentheywillbesoon,Ibelieve.

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