Американская трагедия

Chapter 47

           Andthenoncemorethevoiceofthatweird,contemptuous,mocking,lonelybird.

           Kit,kit,kit,Ca-a-a-ah!Kit,kit,kit,Ca-a-a-ah!Kit,kit,kit,Ca-a-a-ah!

           Thecryofthatdevilishbirduponthatdeadlimbthewier-wier.

           AndthenClyde,withthesoundofRoberta’scriesstillinhisears,thatlastfrantic,white,appealinglookinhereyes,swimmingheavily,gloomilyanddarklytoshore.Andthethoughtthat,afterall,hehadnotreallykilledher.No,no.ThankGodforthat.Hehadnot.Andyet(steppinguponthenear-bybankandshakingthewaterfromhisclothes)hadhe?Or,hadhenot?Forhadhenotrefusedtogotoherrescue,andwhenhemighthavesavedher,andwhenthefaultforcastingherinthewater,howeveraccidentally,wassotrulyhis?Andyetandyet

           Theduskandsilenceofaclosingday.Aconcealedspotinthedepthsofthesameshelteringwoodswherealoneanddripping,hisdrybagnear,Clydestood,andbywaiting,soughttodryhimself.Butintheinterim,removingfromthesideofthebagtheunusedtripodofhiscameraandseekinganobscure,deadlogfartherinthewoods,hidingit.Hadanyoneseen?Wasanyonelooking?Thenreturningandwonderingastothedirection!Hemustgowestandthensouth.Hemustnotgetturnedabout!Buttherepeatedcryofthatbirdharsh,nerveshaking.Andthenthegloom,inspiteofthesummerstars

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