Спрут: Калифорнийская история
Chapter VIII
Won’titbegay?”
Presleyassentedinmeaninglesswords.Hesippedhiswinemechanically,lookingaboutthatmarvellousroom,withitssubduedsaffronlights,itsglitterofglassandsilver,itsbeautifulwomenintheirelaboratetoilets,itsdeft,correctservants;itsarrayoftableware—cutglass,chasedsilver,andDresdencrockery.ItwasWealth,inallitsoutwardandvisibleforms,thesignsofanopulencesogreatthatitneedneverbehusbanded.Itwasthehomeofarailway“Magnate,”aRailroadKing.Forthis,then,thefarmerspaid.ItwasforthisthatS.Behrmanturnedthescrew,tightenedthevise.ItwasforthisthatDykehadbeendriventooutlawryandajail.ItwasforthisthatLymanDerrickhadbeenbought,theGovernorruinedandbroken,Annixtershotdown,Hoovenkilled.
Thesoup,pureealaDerby,wasserved,andatthesametime,ashorsd’oeuvres,ortolanpatties,togetherwithatinysandwichmadeofbrownedtoastandthinslicesofham,sprinkledoverwithParmesancheese.Thewine,soMrs.Gerardcausedittobeunderstood,wasXeres,ofthe1815vintage.
Mrs.Hoovencrossedtheavenue.Itwasgrowinglate.Withoutknowingit,shehadcometoapartofthecitythatexperiencedbeggarsshunned.Therewasnobodyabout.Blockafterblockofresidencesstretchedawayoneitherhand,lighted,fullofpeople.Butthesidewalksweredeserted.
“Mammy,”whimperedHilda.“I’mtired,carryme.”
Usingallherstrength,Mrs.Hoovenpickedherupandmovedonaimlessly.
Thenagainthatterriblecry,thecryofthehungrychildappealingtothehelplessmother:
“Mammy,I’mhungry.
