Лето
IX
Theyhadmadenoplansfortherestoftheday,andwhenHarneyaskedherwhatshewantedtodonextshewastoobewilderedbyrichpossibilitiestofindananswer.FinallysheconfessedthatshelongedtogototheLake,whereshehadnotbeentakenonherformervisit,andwhenheanswered,“Oh,there’stimeforthat—itwillbepleasanterlater,”shesuggestedseeingsomepicturesliketheonesMr.Mileshadtakenherto.ShethoughtHarneylookedalittledisconcerted;buthepassedhisfinehandkerchiefoverhiswarmbrow,saidgaily,“Comealong,then,”androsewithalastpatforthepink-eyeddog.
Mr.Miles’spictureshadbeenshowninanaustereY.M.C.A.hall,withwhitewallsandanorgan;butHarneyledCharitytoaglitteringplace—everythingshesawseemedtoglitter—wheretheypassed,betweenimmensepicturesofyellow-hairedbeautiesstabbingvillainsineveningdress,intoavelvet-curtainedauditoriumpackedwithspectatorstothelastlimitofcompression.Afterthat,forawhile,everythingwasmergedinherbraininswimmingcirclesofheatandblindingalternationsoflightanddarkness.Alltheworldhastoshowseemedtopassbeforeherinachaosofpalmsandminarets,chargingcavalryregiments,roaringlions,comicpolicemenandscowlingmurderers;andthecrowdaroundher,thehundredsofhotsallowcandy-munchingfaces,young,old,middle-aged,butallkindledwiththesamecontagiousexcitement,becamepartofthespectacle,anddancedonthescreenwiththerest
