Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XV

           “GoodGod!Whatcanyouthinkofme,tosaythat?”

           Themockeryofthequestionflashedbackathimfromherwretchedface.Shestoodup,wanderedaway,andleanedaninstantinthedarkeningwindow-frame.Fromtheresheturnedtoflingbackathim:“Don’timagineI’mtheleastbitsorryforanything!”

           Hesteadiedhiselbowsonthetableandhidhisfaceinhishands.Itwasharder,oh,damnablyharder,thanhehadexpected!Arguments,expedients,palliations,evasions,allseemedtobeslippingawayfromhim:hewasleftfacetofacewiththemeregracelessfactofhisinferiority.Heliftedhisheadtoaskatrandom:“You’vebeenhere,then,eversince?”

           “SinceJune;yes.ItturnedoutthattheFarlowswerehuntingforme—allthewhile—forthis.”

           Shestoodfacinghim,herbacktothewindow,evidentlyimpatienttobegone,yetwithsomethingstilltosay,orthatsheexpectedtohearhimsay.Thesenseofherexpectancybenumbedhim.Whatinheaven’snamecouldhesaytoherthatwasnotanoffenseoramockery?

           “Yourideaofthetheatre—yougavethatupatonce,then?”

           “Oh,thetheatre!”Shegavealittlelaugh.“Icouldn’twaitforthetheatre.Ihadtotakethefirstthingthatoffered;Itookthis.”

           Hepushedonhaltingly:“I’mglad—extremelyglad—you’rehappyhere....I’dcountedonyourlettingmeknowiftherewasanythingIcoulddo....Thetheatre,now—ifyoustillregretit—ifyou’renotcontentedhere....

Настройки
Фон страницы
Размер шрифта
Межстрочный интервал
Фразовые глаголы
Показать / Скрыть меню
Шрифт
Roboto Lora
Уведомления
Страница 155 из 369