Американська трагедія

Chapter 47

           

           Kit,kit,kit,Ca-a-a-ah!Kit,kit,kit,Ca-a-a-ah!Kit,kit,kit,Ca-a-a-ah!

           (Theweird,hauntingcryofthatunearthlybirdagain.Socold,soharsh!Hereitwasoncemoretostartlehimoutofhissoulflightintoarealizationoftherealorunrealimmediateproblemwithallofitstorturesomeanglesthatlaybeforehim.)

           Hemustfacethisthing!Hemust!

           Kit,kit,kit,Ca-a-a-ah!Kit,kit,kit,Ca-a-a-ah!

           Whatwasitsounding—awarning—aprotest—condemnation?Thesamebirdthathadmarkedtheverybirthofthismiserableplan.Forthereitwasnowuponthatdeadtree—thatwretchedbird.Andnowitwasflyingtoanotherone—asdead—alittlefartherinlandandcryingasitdidso.God!

           Andthentotheshoreagaininspiteofhimself.ForClyde,inordertojustifyhishavingbroughthisbag,nowmustsuggestthatpicturesofthisbetaken—andofRoberta—andofhimself,possibly—onlandandwater.Forthatwouldbringherintotheboatagain,withouthisbag,whichwouldbesafeanddryonland.Andonceonshore,actuallypretendingtobeseekingoutvariousspecialviewshereandthere,whilehefixedinhismindtheexacttreeatthebaseofwhichhemightleavehisbagagainsthisreturn—whichmustbesoonnow—mustbesoon.Theywouldnotcomeonshoreagaintogether.

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