Титан

The Clash

           What,forheaven’ssake,couldthatbe?Whataterriblecry!Sohlbergtheartist,respondinglikeachameleontothevariousemotionalcomplexionsoflife,begantobreathestertorously,toblanch,tolosecontrolofhimself.

           "MyGod!"heexclaimed,throwinguphishands,"that’sRita!She’sup-stairsinyourwife’sroom!Somethingmusthavehappened.Oh—"Ontheinstanthewasquitebesidehimself,terrified,shaking,almostuseless.Cowperwood,onthecontrary,withoutamoment’shesitationhadthrownhiscoattothefloor,dashedupthestairs,followedbySohlberg.Whatcoulditbe?WherewasAileen?Asheboundedupwardaclearsenseofsomethinguntowardcameoverhim;itwassickening,terrifying.Scream!Scream!Scream!camethesounds."Oh,myGod!don’tkillme!Help!Help!"SCREAM—thislastalong,terrified,ear-piercingwail.

           Sohlbergwasabouttodropfromheartfailure,hewassofrightened.Hisfacewasanashengray.Cowperwoodseizedthedoor-knobvigorouslyand,findingthedoorlocked,shook,rattled,andbangedatit.

           "Aileen!"hecalled,sharply."Aileen!What’sthematterinthere?Openthisdoor,Aileen!"

           "Oh,myGod!Oh,help!help!Oh,mercyo-o-o-o-oh!"ItwasthemoaningvoiceofRita.

           "I’llshowyou,youshe-devil!"heheardAileencalling."I’llteachyou,youbeast!Youcat,youprostitute!There!there!there!"

           "Aileen!"hecalled,hoarsely.

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