Сестра Керри

Chapter XXIII. A Spirit In Travail: One Rung Put Behind

           Ihateyou,Itellyou,andIwouldn’tlivewithyouanotherminute.You’reabig,insulting”—hereshehesitatedandusednowordatall—“oryouwouldn’ttalkthatway.”

           Shehadsecuredherhatandjacketandslippedthelatteronoverherlittleeveningdress.Somewispsofwavyhairhadloosenedfromthebandsatthesideofherheadandwerestragglingoverherhot,redcheeks.Shewasangry,mortified,grief-stricken.Herlargeeyeswerefulloftheanguishoftears,butherlidswerenotyetwet.Shewasdistractedanduncertain,decidinganddoingthingswithoutanaimorconclusion,andshehadnottheslightestconceptionofhowthewholedifficultywouldend.

           “Well,that’safinefinish,”saidDrouet.“Packupandpullout,eh?Youtakethecake.IbetyouwereknockingaroundwithHurstwoodoryouwouldn’tactlikethat.Idon’twanttheoldrooms.Youneedn’tpulloutforme.YoucanhavethemforallIcare,butb’George,youhaven’tdonemeright.”

           “I’llnotlivewithyou,”saidCarrie.“Idon’twanttolivewithyou.You’vedonenothingbutbragaroundeversinceyou’vebeenhere.”

           “Aw,Ihaven’tanythingofthekind,”heanswered.

           Carriewalkedovertothedoor.

           “Whereareyougoing?”hesaid,steppingoverandheadingheroff.

           “Letmeout,”shesaid.

           “Whereareyougoing?”herepeated.

           Hewas,aboveall,sympathetic,andthesightofCarriewanderingout,heknewnotwhere,affectedhim,despitehisgrievance.

           Carriemerelypulledatthedoor.

           Thestrainofthesituationwastoomuchforher,however.

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