Спрут: Калифорнийская история

           “Yes,”Presleyanswered,drawingachairneartoher,“yes,IfeltIcouldnotstay—downhereanylonger.Iamgoingtotakealongoceanvoyage.Myshipsailsinafewdays.Butyou,Mrs.Annixter,whatareyougoingtodo?IsthereanywayIcanserveyou?”

           “No,”sheanswered,“nothing.Papaisdoingwell.Wearelivingherenow.”

           “Youarewell?”

           Shemadealittlehelplessgesturewithbothherhands,smilingverysadly.

           “Asyousee,”sheanswered.

           Ashetalked,Presleywaslookingatherintently.Herdignitywasanewelementinhercharacterandthecertainslendereffectofherfigure,emphasisednowbythelongfoldsoftheblackgownshewore,carrieditalmostsuperbly.Sheconveyedsomethingoftheimpressionofaqueeninexile.Butshehadlostnoneofherwomanliness;rather,thecontrary.Adversityhadsoftenedher,aswellasdeepenedher.Presleysawthatveryclearly.Hilmahadarrivednowatherperfectmaturity;shehadknowngreatloveandshehadknowngreatgrief,andthewomanthathadawakenedinherwithheraffectionforAnnixterhadbeenstrengthenedandinfinitelyennobledbyhisdeath.Whatifthingshadbeendifferent?Thus,asheconversedwithher,Presleyfoundhimselfwondering.Hersweetness,herbeautifulgentleness,andtendernesswerealmostlikepalpablepresences.Itwasalmostasifacaresshadbeenlaidsoftlyuponhischeek,asifagentlehandcloseduponhis.Here,heknew,wassympathy;here,heknew,wasaninfinitecapacityforlove.

           Thensuddenlyallthetiredheartofhimwentouttowardsher.