Лето

           “Theminister’llbeupherenextSundayandwecanfixitupthen.OrI’lldriveyoudowntoHepburntotheJustice,andgetitdonethere.I’lldowhateveryousay.”Hiseyesfellunderthemercilessstareshecontinuedtofixonhim,andheshiftedhisweightuneasilyfromonefoottotheother.Ashestoodtherebeforeher,unwieldy,shabby,disordered,thepurpleveinsdistortingthehandshepressedagainstthedesk,andhislongorator’sjawtremblingwiththeeffortofhisavowal,heseemedlikeahideousparodyofthefatherlyoldmanshehadalwaysknown.

           “Marryyou?Me?”sheburstoutwithascornfullaugh.“Wasthatwhatyoucametoaskmetheothernight?What’scomeoveryou,Iwonder?Howlongisitsinceyou’velookedatyourselfintheglass?”Shestraightenedherself,insolentlyconsciousofheryouthandstrength.“Isupposeyouthinkitwouldbecheapertomarrymethantokeepahiredgirl.Everybodyknowsyou’retheclosestmaninEagleCounty;butIguessyou’renotgoingtogetyourmendingdoneforyouthatwaytwice.”

           Mr.Royalldidnotmovewhileshespoke.Hisfacewasash-colouredandhisblackeyebrowsquiveredasthoughtheblazeofherscornhadblindedhim.Whensheceasedhehelduphishand.

           “That’lldo—that’llaboutdo,”hesaid.Heturnedtothedoorandtookhishatfromthehat-peg.Onthethresholdhepaused.“Peopleain’tbeenfairtome—fromthefirsttheyain’tbeenfairtome,”hesaid.Thenhewentout