Гроздья гнева

           ConnieRiversliftedthehightail-gateoutofthetruckandgotdownandhelpedRoseofSharontotheground;andsheaccepteditnobly,smilingherwise,self-satisfiedsmile,mouthtippedatthecornersalittlefatuously.

           Tomsaid,"Why,itRosasharn.Ididn’tknowyouwascomin’withthem."

           "Wewaswalkin’,"shesaid."Thetruckcomebyan’pickedusup."Andthenshesaid,"ThisisConnie,myhusband."Andshewasgrand,sayingit.

           Thetwoshookhands,sizingeachotherup,lookingdeeplyintoeachother;andinamomenteachwassatisfied,andTomsaid,"Well,Iseeyoubeenbusy."

           Shelookeddown."Youdonotsee,notyet."

           "Patol’me.When’sitgonnabe?"

           "Oh,notforalongtime!Nottillnex’winter."

           Tomlaughed."Gonnaget’imboreinaorangeranch,huh?Inoneathemwhitehouseswithorangetreesallaroun’."

           RoseofSharonfeltherstomachwithbothherhands."Youdonotsee,"shesaid,andshesmiledhercomplacentsmileandwentintothehouse.Theeveningwashot,andthethrustoflightstillflowedupfromthewesternhorizon.Andwithoutanysignalthefamilygatheredbythetruck,andthecongress,thefamilygovernment,wentintosession.

           Thefilmofeveninglightmadetheredearthlucent,sothatitsdimensionsweredeepened,sothatastone,apost,abuildinghadgreaterdepthandmoresoliditythaninthedaytimelight;andtheseobjectswerecuriouslymoreindividual—apostwasmoreessentiallyapost,setofffromtheearthitstoodinandthefieldofcornitstoodoutagainst.