Мартин Иден

Chapter 16

           "Ioughtto. BeganintheContraCostainOaklandwhenIwaseleven,shakin’outforthemangle. Thatwaseighteenyearsago,an’I’veneverdoneatapofanythingelse. ButthisjobisthefiercestIeverhad. Oughttobeonemoremanonitatleast. Weworkto-morrownight. AlwaysrunthemangleWednesdaynightscollarsan’cuffs." 

           Martinsethisalarm,drewuptothetable,andopenedFiske. Hedidnotfinishthefirstparagraph. Thelinesblurredandrantogetherandhisheadnodded. Hewalkedupanddown,battinghisheadsavagelywithhisfists,buthecouldnotconquerthenumbnessofsleep. Heproppedthebookbeforehim,andproppedhiseyelidswithhisfingers,andfellasleepwithhiseyeswideopen. Thenhesurrendered,and,scarcelyconsciousofwhathedid,gotoffhisclothesandintobed. Hesleptsevenhoursofheavy,animal-likesleep,andawokebythealarm,feelingthathehadnothadenough. 

           "Doin’muchreadin’?"Joeasked. 

           Martinshookhishead. 

           "Nevermind. Wegottorunthemangleto-night,butThursdaywe’llknockoffatsix. That’llgiveyouachance." 

           Martinwashedwoollensthatday,byhand,inalargebarrel,withstrongsoft-soap,bymeansofahubfromawagonwheel,mountedonaplunger-polethatwasattachedtoaspring-poleoverhead. 

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