Спрут: Калифорнийская история

           Isn’titwarm?Isn’titfine?Anddon’tyoulovetoseeitcominginlikethatthroughthewindows,floodsofit;andallthelittledustinitshining?Wherethereislotsofsunlight,Ithinkthepeoplemustbeverygood.It’sonlywickedpeoplethatlovethedark.Andthewickedthingsarealwaysdoneandplannedinthedark,Ithink.Perhaps,too,that’swhyIhatethingsthataremysterious—thingsthatIcan’tsee,thathappeninthedark.”Shewrinkledhernosewithalittleexpressionofaversion.“Ihateamystery.Maybethat’swhyIamafraidinthedark—orwas.Ishouldn’tliketothinkthatanythingcouldhappenaroundmethatIcouldn’tseeorunderstandorexplain.”

           Sheranonfromsubjecttosubject,positivelygarrulous,talkinginherlow-pitchedvoiceofvelvetyhuskinessforthemereenjoymentofputtingherideasintospeech,innocentlyassumingthattheywerequiteasinterestingtoothersastoherself.Shewasyetagreatchild,ignoringthefactthatshehadevergrownup,takingachild’sinterestinherimmediatesurroundings,direct,straightforward,plain.Whilespeaking,shecontinuedaboutherwork,rinsingoutthecanswithamixtureofhotwaterandsoda,scouringthembright,andpilingtheminthesunlightontopofthevat.

           Obliquely,andfrombetweenhisnarrowedlids,Annixterscrutinisedherfromtimetotime,moreandmorewonoverbyheradorablefreshness,herclean,fineyouth.Theclumsinessthatheusuallyexperiencedinthepresenceofwomenwaswearingoff.HilmaTree’sdirectsimplicityputhimathisease.