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- Джек Лондон
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- Мартин Иден
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- Стр. 157/241
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The
other
replied
with
an
ungracious
grunt
,
but
swung
alongside
.
Martin
made
no
further
attempt
at
conversation
,
and
for
several
blocks
unbroken
silence
lay
upon
them
.
"
Pompous
old
ass
!
"
The
suddenness
and
the
virulence
of
the
exclamation
startled
Martin
.
He
felt
amused
,
and
at
the
same
time
was
aware
of
a
growing
dislike
for
the
other
.
"
What
do
you
go
to
such
a
place
for
?
"
was
abruptly
flung
at
him
after
another
block
of
silence
.
"
Why
do
you
?
"
Martin
countered
.
"
Bless
me
,
I
don
’
t
know
,
"
came
back
.
"
At
least
this
is
my
first
indiscretion
.
There
are
twenty
-
four
hours
in
each
day
,
and
I
must
spend
them
somehow
.
Come
and
have
a
drink
.
"
"
All
right
,
"
Martin
answered
.
The
next
moment
he
was
nonplussed
by
the
readiness
of
his
acceptance
.
At
home
was
several
hours
’
hack
-
work
waiting
for
him
before
he
went
to
bed
,
and
after
he
went
to
bed
there
was
a
volume
of
Weismann
waiting
for
him
,
to
say
nothing
of
Herbert
Spencer
’
s
Autobiography
,
which
was
as
replete
for
him
with
romance
as
any
thrilling
novel
.
Why
should
he
waste
any
time
with
this
man
he
did
not
like
?
was
his
thought
.
And
yet
,
it
was
not
so
much
the
man
nor
the
drink
as
was
it
what
was
associated
with
the
drink
—
the
bright
lights
,
the
mirrors
and
dazzling
array
of
glasses
,
the
warm
and
glowing
faces
and
the
resonant
hum
of
the
voices
of
men
.
That
was
it
,
it
was
the
voices
of
men
,
optimistic
men
,
men
who
breathed
success
and
spent
their
money
for
drinks
like
men
.
He
was
lonely
,
that
was
what
was
the
matter
with
him
;
that
was
why
he
had
snapped
at
the
invitation
as
a
bonita
strikes
at
a
white
rag
on
a
hook
.
Not
since
with
Joe
,
at
Shelly
Hot
Springs
,
with
the
one
exception
of
the
wine
he
took
with
the
Portuguese
grocer
,
had
Martin
had
a
drink
at
a
public
bar
.
Mental
exhaustion
did
not
produce
a
craving
for
liquor
such
as
physical
exhaustion
did
,
and
he
had
felt
no
need
for
it
.
But
just
now
he
felt
desire
for
the
drink
,
or
,
rather
,
for
the
atmosphere
wherein
drinks
were
dispensed
and
disposed
of
.
Such
a
place
was
the
Grotto
,
where
Brissenden
and
he
lounged
in
capacious
leather
chairs
and
drank
Scotch
and
soda
.
They
talked
.
They
talked
about
many
things
,
and
now
Brissenden
and
now
Martin
took
turn
in
ordering
Scotch
and
soda
.
Martin
,
who
was
extremely
strong
-
headed
,
marvelled
at
the
other
’
s
capacity
for
liquor
,
and
ever
and
anon
broke
off
to
marvel
at
the
other
’
s
conversation
.
He
was
not
long
in
assuming
that
Brissenden
knew
everything
,
and
in
deciding
that
here
was
the
second
intellectual
man
he
had
met
.
But
he
noted
that
Brissenden
had
what
Professor
Caldwell
lacked
—
namely
,
fire
,
the
flashing
insight
and
perception
,
the
flaming
uncontrol
of
genius
.
Living
language
flowed
from
him
.
