Сестра Керри

Chapter XLI. The Strike

           

           Theex-managerlaidhandtotheleverandpusheditgently,ashethought.Itworkedmucheasierthanheimagined,however,withtheresultthatthecarjerkedquicklyforward,throwinghimbackagainstthedoor.Hestraightenedupsheepishly,whiletheinstructorstoppedthecarwiththebrake.

           “Youwanttobecarefulaboutthat,”wasallhesaid.

           Hurstwoodfound,however,thathandlingabrakeandregulatingspeedwerenotsoinstantlymasteredashehadimagined.Onceortwicehewouldhaveploughedthroughtherearfenceifithadnotbeenforthehandandwordofhiscompanion.Thelatterwasratherpatientwithhim,butheneversmiled.

           “You’vegottogettheknackofworkingbotharmsatonce,”hesaid.“Ittakesalittlepractice.”

           Oneo’clockcamewhilehewasstillonthecarpractising,andhebegantofeelhungry.Thedaysetinsnowing,andhewascold.Hegrewwearyofrunningtoandfroontheshorttrack.

           Theyranthecartotheendandbothgotoff.Hurstwoodwentintothebarnandsoughtacarstep,pullingouthispaper-wrappedlunchfromhispocket.Therewasnowaterandthebreadwasdry,butheenjoyedit.Therewasnoceremonyaboutdining.Heswallowedandlookedabout,contemplatingthedull,homelylabourofthething.Itwasdisagreeable—miserablydisagreeable—inallitsphases.Notbecauseitwasbitter,butbecauseitwashard.Itwouldbehardtoanyone,hethought.

           Aftereating,hestoodaboutasbefore,waitinguntilhisturncame.

           Theintentionwastogivehimanafternoonofpractice,butthegreaterpartofthetimewasspentinwaitingabout.

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