Читать книгу From the Land of the Snow-Pearls: Tales from Puget Sound онлайн

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She looked up at him. Her eyes spoke the passionate prayer that her lips could not utter.

“Don’t stay long, Mart,” she whispered, not daring to say more.

“I won’t, Molly,” he whispered back. “I’ll hurry up. Git anything yuh want.”

She finished her poor shopping. Mr. Jenkins wrapped everything up neatly. Then he rubbed his hands together and looked at her, and said: “Well, there now, Mis’ Dupen.”

“I—jest lay ’em all together there on the counter,” she said hesitatingly. “I’ll have to wait till Mart comes back before I can pay yuh.”

“I see him go into the saloon over there,” piped out the errand boy shrilly.

At the end of half an hour she climbed upon the high stool and fixed her eyes upon the saloon opposite and sat there.

She saw nothing but the glare of those windows and the light streaming out when the doors opened. She heard nothing but the torturing blare of the music. After awhile something commenced beating painfully in her throat and temples. Her limbs grew stiff—she was scarcely conscious that they ached. Once she shuddered strongly, as dogs do when they lie in the cold, waiting.