Американська трагедія

Chapter 7

           Butifyoudon’tfeelwell,IwishyouwouldletmegetFranktotakeyoudownorgoupstairs.Hewon’tmind.Andthenafterawhile—aboutten-thirty—I’llexcusemyselfandyoucangodownwithmetoyourplace.I’lltakeyoutherebeforeIgohomeandwhoeverelsewantstogo.Won’tmybabyboydosomethinglikethat?"

           AndClydesaying:"Well,IthinkI’llgoupandgetadrink,anyhow."AnddisappearinginoneofthespaciousbathsoftheHarriethome,lockingthedoorandsittingdownandthinking,thinking—ofRoberta’sbodyrecovered,ofthepossibilitiesofabruiseofsomekind,ofthepossibilityoftheprintofhisownfeetinthemudandsandyloamoftheshore;ofthatsuitoverattheCranstons’,themeninthewood,Roberta’sbag,hatandcoat,hisownlininglesshatleftonthewater—andwonderingwhatnexttodo.Howtoact!Howtotalk!WhethertogodownstairstoSondranowandpersuadehertogo,orwhethertostayandsufferandagonize?Andwhatwouldthemorrow’spapersreveal?What?What?Andwasitwise,incasetherewasanynewswhichwouldmakeitlookasthougheventuallyhewastobesoughtafter,orinanywayconnectedwiththis,togoonthatproposedcampingtriptomorrow!Or,wiser,torunawayfromhere?Hehadsomemoneynow.HecouldgotoNewYork,Boston,NewOrleanswhereRattererwas—butoh,no—notwhereanyoneknewhim.

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