Лето

           ”

           “What?Hertoo?”thegirlsneered;andtheyoungmanturnedonherwithanoath.“Shutyourmouth,damnyou,orgetoutofhere,”hesaid;thenherelapsedintohisformerapathy,anddroppeddownonthebench,leaninghisheadagainstthewall.

           Mr.Mileshadsetthecandleonthefloorandtakenoffhisheavycoat.HeturnedtoCharity.“Comeandhelpme,”hesaid.

           Hekneltdownbythemattress,andpressedthelidsoverthedeadwoman’seyes.Charity,tremblingandsick,kneltbesidehim,andtriedtocomposehermother’sbody.Shedrewthestockingoverthedreadfulglisteningleg,andpulledtheskirtdowntothebatteredupturnedboots.Asshedidso,shelookedathermother’sface,thinyetswollen,withlipspartedinafrozengaspabovethebrokenteeth.Therewasnosigninitofanythinghuman:shelaytherelikeadeaddoginaditch.Charity’shandsgrewcoldastheytouchedher.

           Mr.Milesdrewthewoman’sarmsacrossherbreastandlaidhiscoatoverher.Thenhecoveredherfacewithhishandkerchief,andplacedthebottlewiththecandleinitatherhead.Havingdonethishestoodup.

           “Istherenocoffin?”heasked,turningtothegroupbehindhim.

           Therewasamomentofbewilderedsilence;thenthefiercegirlspokeup.“You’doughterbroughtitwithyou.Where’dwegetonehere,I’dliketerknow?”

           Mr.Miles,lookingattheothers,repeated:“Isitpossibleyouhavenocoffinready?”

           “That’swhatIsay:themthathasitsleepsbetter,”anoldwomanmurmured.“Butthensheneverhadnobed....