Сестра Керри

Chapter XLII. A Touch Of Spring: The Empty Shell

           Itspokeforitself,almostwithoutfurtheractiononhispart.

           Reachingover,hetookit,asortofchillsettlinguponhimevenwhilehereached.Thecrackleoftheenvelopeinhishandswasloud.Greenpapermoneylaysoftwithinthenote.

           “DearGeorge,”heread,crunchingthemoneyinonehand,“I’mgoingaway.I’mnotcomingbackanymore.It’snousetryingtokeepuptheflat;Ican’tdoit.Iwouldn’tmindhelpingyou,ifIcould,butIcan’tsupportusboth,andpaytherent.IneedwhatlittleImaketopayformyclothes.I’mleavingtwentydollars.It’sallIhavejustnow.Youcandowhateveryoulikewiththefurniture.Iwon’twantit.—CARRIE.”

           Hedroppedthenoteandlookedquietlyround.Nowheknewwhathemissed.Itwasthelittleornamentalclock,whichwashers.Ithadgonefromthemantelpiece.Hewentintothefrontroom,hisbedroom,theparlour,lightingthegasashewent.Fromthechiffonierhadgonetheknick-knacksofsilverandplate.Fromthetable-top,thelacecoverings.Heopenedthewardrobe—noclothesofhers.Heopenedthedrawers—nothingofhers.Hertrunkwasgonefromitsaccustomedplace.Backinhisownroomhunghisoldclothes,justashehadleftthem.Nothingelsewasgone.

           Hesteppedintotheparlourandstoodforafewmomentslookingvacantlyatthefloor.Thesilencegrewoppressive.Thelittleflatseemedwonderfullydeserted.Hewhollyforgotthathewashungry,thatitwasonlydinner-time.Itseemedlaterinthenight.

           Suddenly,hefoundthatthemoneywasstillinhishands.Thereweretwentydollarsinall,asshehadsaid

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