Сестра Керри

Chapter XVII. A Glimpse Through The Gateway: Hope Lightens The Eye

           Sullivan,thepugilist,wasatoneendoftheglitteringbar,surroundedbyacompanyofloudlydressedsports,whowereholdingamostanimatedconversation.Drouetcameacrossthefloorwithafestivestride,anewpairoftanshoessqueakingaudiblyathisprogress.

           “Well,sir,”saidHurstwood,“Iwaswonderingwhathadbecomeofyou.Ithoughtyouhadgoneoutoftownagain.”

           Drouetlaughed.

           “Ifyoudon’treportmoreregularlywe’llhavetocutyouoffthelist.”

           “Couldn’thelpit,”saidthedrummer,“I’vebeenbusy.”

           Theystrolledovertowardthebaramidthenoisy,shiftingcompanyofnotables.Thedressymanagerwasshakenbythehandthreetimesinasmanyminutes.

           “Ihearyourlodgeisgoingtogiveaperformance,”observedHurstwood,inthemostoffhandmanner.

           “Yes,whotoldyou?”

           “Noone,”saidHurstwood.“Theyjustsentmeacoupleoftickets,whichIcanhavefortwodollars.Isitgoingtobeanygood?”

           “Idon’tknow,”repliedthedrummer.“They’vebeentryingtogetmetogetsomewomantotakeapart.”

           “Iwasn’tintendingtogo,”saidthemanagereasily.“I’llsubscribe,ofcourse.Howarethingsoverthere?”

           “Allright.They’regoingtofitthingsupoutoftheproceeds.”

           “Well,”saidthemanager,“Ihopetheymakeasuccessofit.Haveanother?”

           Hedidnotintendtosayanymore.Now,ifheshouldappearonthescenewithafewfriends,hecouldsaythathehadbeenurgedtocomealong.Drouethadadesiretowipeoutthepossibilityofconfusion.

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