Спрут: Каліфорнійська історія
Chapter VIII
”Then,atlast,forthefirsttime,thatplaintthatstabbedthemother’sheart:
“Mammy,I’mhungry.”
“Bequi-ut,den,”saidMrs.Hooven.“Brettysoonwe’llhevdersubber.”
Passers-byonthesidewalk,menandwomeninthegreatsixo’clockhomewardmarch,jostledthemastheywentalong.Withdumb,dullcuriousness,shelookedintooneafteranotherofthelimitlessstreamoffaces,andshefanciedshesawinthemeveryemotionbutpity.Thefacesweregay,wereanxious,weresorrowful,weremirthful,werelinedwiththought,orweremerelyflatandexpressionless,butnotonewasturnedtowardherincompassion.Theexpressionsofthefacesmightbevarious,butanunderlyingcallousnesswasdiscoverablebeneatheverymask.Thepeopleseemedremovedfromherimmeasurably;theywereinfinitelyaboveher.Whatwasshetothem,sheandherbaby,thecrippledoutcastsofthehumanherd,theunfit,notabletosurvive,thrustoutontheheathtoperish?
Tobegfromthesepeopledidnotyetoccurtoher.Therewasnopride,however,inthematter.Shewouldhaveasreadilyaskedalmsofsomanysphinxes.
Shewenton.Withoutwillingit,herfeetcarriedherinawidecircle.Soonshebegantorecognisethehouses;shehadbeeninthatstreetbefore.Somehow,thiswasdistastefultoher;so,strikingoffatrightangles,shewalkedstraightbeforeherforoveradozenblocks.Bynow,itwasgrowingdarker.Thesunhadset.Thehandsofaclockonthepower-houseofacablelinepointedtoseven.
