Сестра Керри

Chapter XII. Of The Lamps Of The Mansions: The Ambassador Plea

           

           Sherelaxedalittleandletthesituationendure,givinghimstrength.

           “Youarenotsatisfiedwithlife,areyou?”

           “No,”sheanswered,weakly.

           Hesawhewasthemasterofthesituation—hefeltit.Hereachedoverandtouchedherhand.

           “Youmustn’t,”sheexclaimed,jumpingup.

           “Ididn’tintendto,”heanswered,easily.

           Shedidnotrunaway,asshemighthavedone.Shedidnotterminatetheinterview,buthedriftedoffintoapleasantfieldofthoughtwiththereadiestgrace.Notlongafterherosetogo,andshefeltthathewasinpower.“Youmustn’tfeelbad,”hesaid,kindly;“thingswillstraightenoutinthecourseoftime.”

           Shemadenoanswer,becauseshecouldthinkofnothingtosay.

           “Wearegoodfriends,aren’twe?”hesaid,extendinghishand.

           “Yes,”sheanswered.

           “Notaword,then,untilIseeyouagain.”

           Heretainedaholdonherhand.

           “Ican’tpromise,”shesaid,doubtfully.

           “Youmustbemoregenerousthanthat,”hesaid,insuchasimplewaythatshewastouched.

           “Let’snottalkaboutitanymore,”shereturned.

           “Allright,”hesaid,brightening.

           Hewentdownthestepsandintohiscab.Carrieclosedthedoorandascendedintoherroom.Sheundidherbroadlacecollarbeforethemirrorandunfastenedherprettyalligatorbeltwhichshehadrecentlybought.

           “I’mgettingterrible,”shesaid,honestlyaffectedbyafeelingoftroubleandshame.“Idon’tseemtodoanythingright.”

           Sheunloosedherhairafteratime,andletithanginloosebrownwaves.Hermindwasgoingovertheeventsoftheevening

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