Сестра Керри

Chapter IX. Convention’s Own Tinder-box: The Eye That Is Green

           

           Hewasnotamanwhotraveledmuch,butwhenhedid,hehadbeenaccustomedtotakeheralong.OnoneoccasionrecentlyalocalaldermanicjunkethadbeenarrangedtovisitPhiladelphia—ajunketthatwastolasttendays.Hurstwoodhadbeeninvited.

           “Nobodyknowsusdownthere,”saidone,agentlemanwhosefacewasaslightimprovementovergrossignoranceandsensuality.Healwaysworeasilkhatofmostimposingproportions.“Wecanhaveagoodtime.”Hislefteyemovedwithjustthesemblanceofawink.“Youwanttocomealong,George.”

           ThenextdayHurstwoodannouncedhisintentiontohiswife.

           “I’mgoingaway,Julia,”hesaid,“forafewdays.”

           “Where?”sheasked,lookingup.

           “ToPhiladelphia,onbusiness.”

           Shelookedathimconsciously,expectingsomethingelse.

           “I’llhavetoleaveyoubehindthistime.”

           “Allright,”shereplied,buthecouldseethatshewasthinkingthatitwasacuriousthing.Beforehewentsheaskedhimafewmorequestions,andthatirritatedhim.Hebegantofeelthatshewasadisagreeableattachment.

           Onthistripheenjoyedhimselfthoroughly,andwhenitwasoverhewassorrytogetback.Hewasnotwillinglyaprevaricator,andhatedthoroughlytomakeexplanationsconcerningit.Thewholeincidentwasglossedoverwithgeneralremarks,butMrs.Hurstwoodgavethesubjectconsiderablethought.Shedroveoutmore,dressedbetter,andattendedtheatresfreelytomakeupforit.

           Suchanatmospherecouldhardlycomeunderthecategoryofhomelife.Itranalongbyforceofhabit,byforceofconventionalopinion

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