Сестра Керри

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

           WhentheywerecrossingBroadway,theusualcrowdofchildrenaccostedthemforalms—”

           “Holdon,”saidthedirector,rushingforward,hisarmextended.“Putmorefeelingintowhatyouaresaying.”

           Mrs.Morganlookedathimasifshefearedapersonalassault.Hereyelightenedwithresentment.

           “Remember,Mrs.Morgan,”headded,ignoringthegleam,butmodifyinghismanner,“thatyou’redetailingapatheticstory.Youarenowsupposedtobetellingsomethingthatisagrieftoyou.Itrequiresfeeling,repression,thus:‘Theusualcrowdofchildrenaccostedthemforalms.’”

           “Allright,”saidMrs.Morgan.

           “Now,goon.”

           “Asmotherfeltinherpocketforsomechange,herfingerstouchedacoldandtremblinghandwhichhadclutchedherpurse.”

           “Verygood,”interruptedthedirector,noddinghisheadsignificantly.

           “Apickpocket!Well!”exclaimedMr.Bamberger,speakingthelinesthatherefelltohim.

           “No,no,Mr.Bamberger,”saidthedirector,approaching,“notthatway.‘Apickpocket—well?’so.That’stheidea.”

           “Don’tyouthink,”saidCarrieweakly,noticingthatithadnotbeenprovedyetwhetherthemembersofthecompanyknewtheirlines,letalonethedetailsofexpression,“thatitwouldbebetterifwejustwentthroughourlinesoncetoseeifweknowthem?Wemightpickupsomepoints.”

           “Averygoodidea,MissMadenda,”saidMr.Quincel,whosatatthesideofthestage,lookingserenelyonandvolunteeringopinionswhichthedirectordidnotheed.

           “Allright,”saidthelatter,somewhatabashed,“itmightbewelltodoit.

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