Читать книгу The Workers: An Experiment in Reality. The West онлайн

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“No,” I said, “I’ve had no luck, nor anything to eat since morning.” We were speaking in the low tones which were permitted in the reading-room. “Well, I’ll be ——.” And Clark’s drawling oath seemed exactly suited to the absurdity of the situation. We both laughed softly over our coincident dilemma, and by a mutual impulse we walked out into the street, where we spent an agreeable half-hour in discussing the placards in the windows of two restaurants.

There was an especial attraction for us in the lower window where there stood a chef all white from his spotless cap to where his white garments were lost to view behind a gas-stove of ingenious contrivance, on whose clean, polished upper surface he was turning well-browned griddle-cakes. I do not know what the association was, and it was in entire good-humor that Clark suddenly turned to me with the remark:

“Say, partner, we’d get all we want to eat, if we’d heave a rock through this window.”

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