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ʲô˰沶Ϸ:·ƳˡƷ ʵЭ

2020-08-07 08:39:23  Դձ
ʲô˰沶Ϸ 

ʲô˰沶Ϸ

ʲô˰沶Ϸַ:a g 9 559 v i p<"That was one of the best things I've seen in a long time," headded.He called a cab and was driven through the dreary rain to theNorth Side. On the way his temper cooled as he thought of thedetails of the case. What did she know? What had she done? Maybeshe'd got hold of Carrie, who knows--or--or Drouet. Perhaps shereally had evidence, and was prepared to fell him as a man doesanother from secret ambush. She was shrewd. Why should shetaunt him this way unless she had good grounds?

"No," he said, "not where we are going."

ʲô˰沶Ϸ廭

"Now you take it," he said, finally.

It began with the approach of two or three, who hung about theclosed wooden doors and beat their feet to keep them warm. Theyhad on faded derby hats with dents in them. Their misfit coatswere heavy with melted snow and turned up at the collars. Theirtrousers were mere bags, frayed at the bottom and wobbling overbig, soppy shoes, torn at the sides and worn almost to shreds.They made no effort to go in, but shifted ruefully about, diggingtheir hands deep in their pockets and leering at the crowd andthe increasing lamps. With the minutes, increased the number.There were old men with grizzled beards and sunken eyes, men whowere comparatively young but shrunken by diseases, men who weremiddle-aged. None were fat. There was a face in the thick ofthe collection which was as white as drained veal. There wasanother red as brick. Some came with thin, rounded shoulders,others with wooden legs, still others with frames so lean thatclothes only flapped about them. There were great ears, swollennoses, thick lips, and, above all, red, blood-shot eyes. Not anormal, healthy face in the whole mass; not a straight figure;not a straightforward, steady glance.

There had been so much enthusiasm engendered that she wasbelieving herself deeply in love. She sighed as she thought ofher handsome adorer. Yes, she would get ready by Saturday. Shewould go, and they would be happy.

ʲô˰沶Ϸ ɻ

To her credit, be it said, she never once counted on Hurstwood.She could only approach that subject with a pang of sorrow andregret. For a truth, she was rather shocked and frightened bythis evidence of human depravity. He would have tricked herwithout turning an eyelash. She would have been led into a newerand worse situation. And yet she could not keep out the picturesof his looks and manners. Only this one deed seemed strange andmiserable. It contrasted sharply with all she felt and knewconcerning the man.<"I don't know," said Quincel. "She's a friend of one of ourmembers."

With it once out and before him, it seemed a foolish thing tothink about leaving it. Certainly it would. Why, he could livequietly with Carrie for years.

ʲô˰沶ϷйҶ ۻ

"Well, I'm not," said Carrie.

For a young man, this was rather a morbid turn of character, andso affected Carrie. Indeed, it affected the entire atmosphere ofthe flat, as such things are inclined to do, and gave to hiswife's mind its subdued and tactful turn, anxious to avoidtaciturn replies. Under the influence of Carrie's announcement hebrightened up somewhat.

<"How much?" he asked."Find it easy?"

On the street sometimes she would see men working--Irishmen withpicks, coal-heavers with great loads to shovel, Americans busyabout some work which was a mere matter of strength--and theytouched her fancy. Toil, now that she was free of it, seemedeven a more desolate thing than when she was part of it. She sawit through a mist of fancy--a pale, sombre half-light, which wasthe essence of poetic feeling. Her old father, in his flour-dusted miller's suit, sometimes returned to her in memory,revived by a face in a window. A shoemaker pegging at his last,a blastman seen through a narrow window in some basement whereiron was being melted, a bench-worker seen high aloft in somewindow, his coat off, his sleeves rolled up; these took her backin fancy to the details of the mill. She felt, though she seldomexpressed them, sad thoughts upon this score. Her sympathieswere ever with that under-world of toil from which she had sorecently sprung, and which she best understood.

ʲô˰沶Ϸͻ

<"I know her name," said the director, "but what does she do?""I'll tell you what I'll do," he added. "I'll write you, care ofthis West Side Post-office. Could you call next Tuesday?"

When he did so, it was his intention to make believe that he hadjust come in and was disturbed at being caught. Then he wouldexplain his need of his clothes and find out how things stood.

ƷͼƬʲô˰沶Ϸ

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ʲô˰沶Ϸר

ʲô˰沶ϷƼĶ

ʲô˰沶Ϸǿ人ԭײܶ϶SARS7Σ "That's it," he said; "that's a fine play. It will go all right.You ought to make a lot of money out of that." ϸ

𳵡ɻݡ׽ָͨϡ㰲ȫؼ| ̵2018|⽻챣ģʵԱûй

ʲô˰沶Ϸ˽ΰýĻɱʽIJգ "Four minutes," said the latter. ϸ

ʲô˰沶ϷֻΪ׷ͬһǿ촬˵ġ߹ʱ̡| ̵2018|ɽط3.0 Դ5ǧ
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