Финансист

Chapter XLIII

           Itwasdingy,withawornwoodenfloor,someheavy,plain,woodenbenchesliningthefoursides,nopicturesorornamentsofanykind.Asingletwo-armgas-pipedescendedfromthecenteroftheceiling.Itwaspermeatedbyapeculiarlystaleandpungentodor,obviouslyredolentofalltheflotsamandjetsamoflifecriminalandinnocentthathadstoodorsatinherefromtimetotime,waitingpatientlytolearnwhatadeliberatingfateheldinstore.

           Cowperwoodwas,ofcourse,disgusted;buthewastooself-reliantandcapabletoshowit.Allhislifehehadbeenimmaculate,almostfastidiousinhiscareofhimself.Herehewascoming,perforce,incontactwithaformoflifewhichjarreduponhimgreatly.Steger,whowasbesidehim,madesomecomforting,explanatory,apologeticremarks.

           "Notasniceasitmightbe,"hesaid,"butyouwon’tmindwaitingalittlewhile.Thejurywon’tbelong,Ifancy."

           "Thatmaynothelpme,"hereplied,walkingtothewindow.Afterwardheadded:"Whatmustbe,mustbe."

           Hisfatherwinced.SupposeFrankwasonthevergeofalongprisonterm,whichmeantanatmospherelikethis?Heavens!Foramoment,hetrembled,thenforthefirsttimeinyearshemadeasilentprayer.

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