Сестра Керри

Chapter XLII. A Touch Of Spring: The Empty Shell

           Hurstwood,noticingthekindness,conceivedbetterofher.“Carrie’sgood-natured,anyhow,”hethought.

           GoingtoMissOsborne’sthatafternoon,shefoundthatlittleladypackingandsinging.

           “Whydon’tyoucomeoverwithmeto-day?”sheasked.

           “Oh,Ican’t,”saidCarrie.“I’llbethereFriday.Wouldyoumindlendingmethetwenty-fivedollarsyouspokeof?”

           “Why,no,”saidLola,goingforherpurse.

           “Iwanttogetsomeotherthings,”saidCarrie.

           “Oh,that’sallright,”answeredthelittlegirl,good-naturedly,gladtobeofservice.IthadbeendayssinceHurstwoodhaddonemorethangotothegroceryortothenews-stand.Nowthewearinessofindoorswasuponhim—hadbeenfortwodays—butchill,greyweatherhadheldhimback.Fridaybrokefairandwarm.Itwasoneofthoselovelyharbingersofspring,givenasasignindrearywinterthatearthisnotforsakenofwarmthandbeauty.Theblueheaven,holdingitsonegoldenorb,poureddownacrystalwashofwarmlight.Itwasplain,fromthevoiceofthesparrows,thatallwashalcyonoutside.Carrieraisedthefrontwindows,andfeltthesouthwindblowing.

           “It’slovelyoutto-day,”sheremarked.

           “Isit?”saidHurstwood.

           Afterbreakfast,heimmediatelygothisotherclothes.

           “Willyoubebackforlunch?”askedCarrienervously.

           “No,”hesaid.

           Hewentoutintothestreetsandtrampednorth,alongSeventhAvenue,idlyfixingupontheHarlemRiverasanobjectivepoint.Hehadseensomeshipsupthere,thetimehehadcalleduponthebrewers.Hewonderedhowtheterritorythereaboutswasgrowing.

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