Американская трагедия

Chapter 44

           Butno!

           Hewalkedandwalked—awayfromLycurgus—outonaroadtothesoutheastwhichpassedthroughapooranddecidedlyunfrequentedruralsection,andsolefthimalonetothink—or,ashefelt,nottobeheardinhisthinking.

           Daywasfadingintodark.Lampswerebeginningtoglowinthecottageshereandthere.Treesingroupsinfieldsoralongtheroadwerebeginningtoblurorsmokilyblend.Andalthoughitwaswarm—theairlifelessandlethargic—hewalkedfast,thinking,andperspiringashedidso,asthoughhewereseekingtooutwalkandoutthinkordivertsomeinnerselfthatpreferredtobestillandthink.

           Thatgloomy,lonelylakeupthere!

           Thatislandtothesouth!

           Whowouldsee?

           Whocouldhear?

           ThatstationatGunLodgewithabusrunningtoitatthisseasonoftheyear.(Ah,herememberedthat,didhe?Thedeuce!)Aterriblething,torememberathinglikethatinconnectionwithsuchathoughtasthis!Butifheweregoingtothinkofsuchathingasthisatall,hehadbetterthinkwell—hecouldtellhimselfthat—orstopthinkingaboutitnow—onceandforever—forever.ButSondra!Roberta!Ifeverhewerecaught—electrocuted!Andyettheactualmiseryofhispresentstate.Thedifficulty!ThedangeroflosingSondra.Andyet,murder—

           Hewipedhishotandwetface,andpausedandgazedatagroupoftreesacrossafieldwhichsomehowremindedhimofthetreesof..

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