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- Джек Лондон
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- Мартин Иден
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- Стр. 175/241
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"
I
saw
in
the
paper
a
few
days
ago
,
"
she
announced
abruptly
,
"
that
there
had
been
several
local
appointments
to
the
Railway
Mail
.
You
passed
first
,
didn
’
t
you
?
"
He
was
compelled
to
admit
that
the
call
had
come
for
him
,
but
that
he
had
declined
it
.
"
I
was
so
sure
—
I
am
so
sure
—
of
myself
,
"
he
concluded
.
"
A
year
from
now
I
’
ll
be
earning
more
than
a
dozen
men
in
the
Railway
Mail
.
You
wait
and
see
.
"
"
Oh
,
"
was
all
she
said
,
when
he
finished
.
She
stood
up
,
pulling
at
her
gloves
.
"
I
must
go
,
Martin
.
Arthur
is
waiting
for
me
.
"
He
took
her
in
his
arms
and
kissed
her
,
but
she
proved
a
passive
sweetheart
.
There
was
no
tenseness
in
her
body
,
her
arms
did
not
go
around
him
,
and
her
lips
met
his
without
their
wonted
pressure
.
She
was
angry
with
him
,
he
concluded
,
as
he
returned
from
the
gate
.
But
why
?
It
was
unfortunate
that
the
poundman
had
gobbled
Maria
’
s
cows
.
But
it
was
only
a
stroke
of
fate
.
Nobody
could
be
blamed
for
it
.
Nor
did
it
enter
his
head
that
he
could
have
done
aught
otherwise
than
what
he
had
done
.
Well
,
yes
,
he
was
to
blame
a
little
,
was
his
next
thought
,
for
having
refused
the
call
to
the
Railway
Mail
.
And
she
had
not
liked
"
Wiki
-
Wiki
.
"
He
turned
at
the
head
of
the
steps
to
meet
the
letter
-
carrier
on
his
afternoon
round
.
The
ever
recurrent
fever
of
expectancy
assailed
Martin
as
he
took
the
bundle
of
long
envelopes
.
One
was
not
long
.
It
was
short
and
thin
,
and
outside
was
printed
the
address
of
The
New
York
Outview
.
He
paused
in
the
act
of
tearing
the
envelope
open
.
It
could
not
be
an
acceptance
.
He
had
no
manuscripts
with
that
publication
.
Perhaps
—
his
heart
almost
stood
still
at
the
—
wild
thought
—
perhaps
they
were
ordering
an
article
from
him
;
but
the
next
instant
he
dismissed
the
surmise
as
hopelessly
impossible
.
It
was
a
short
,
formal
letter
,
signed
by
the
office
editor
,
merely
informing
him
that
an
anonymous
letter
which
they
had
received
was
enclosed
,
and
that
he
could
rest
assured
the
Outview
’
s
staff
never
under
any
circumstances
gave
consideration
to
anonymous
correspondence
.
The
enclosed
letter
Martin
found
to
be
crudely
printed
by
hand
.
It
was
a
hotchpotch
of
illiterate
abuse
of
Martin
,
and
of
assertion
that
the
"
so
-
called
Martin
Eden
"
who
was
selling
stories
to
magazines
was
no
writer
at
all
,
and
that
in
reality
he
was
stealing
stories
from
old
magazines
,
typing
them
,
and
sending
them
out
as
his
own
.
The
envelope
was
postmarked
"
San
Leandro
.
"
Martin
did
not
require
a
second
thought
to
discover
the
author
.
Higginbotham
’
s
grammar
,
Higginbotham
’
s
colloquialisms
,
Higginbotham
’
s
mental
quirks
and
processes
,
were
apparent
throughout
.
Martin
saw
in
every
line
,
not
the
fine
Italian
hand
,
but
the
coarse
grocer
’
s
fist
,
of
his
brother
-
in
-
law
.
But
why
?
he
vainly
questioned
.
What
injury
had
he
done
Bernard
Higginbotham
?
The
thing
was
so
unreasonable
,
so
wanton
.
There
was
no
explaining
it
.
In
the
course
of
the
week
a
dozen
similar
letters
were
forwarded
to
Martin
by
the
editors
of
various
Eastern
magazines
.
The
editors
were
behaving
handsomely
,
Martin
concluded
.
He
was
wholly
unknown
to
them
,
yet
some
of
them
had
even
been
sympathetic
.
It
was
evident
that
they
detested
anonymity
.
He
saw
that
the
malicious
attempt
to
hurt
him
had
failed
.
In
fact
,
if
anything
came
of
it
,
it
was
bound
to
be
good
,
for
at
least
his
name
had
been
called
to
the
attention
of
a
number
of
editors
.
Sometime
,
perhaps
,
reading
a
submitted
manuscript
of
his
,
they
might
remember
him
as
the
fellow
about
whom
they
had
received
an
anonymous
letter
.
And
who
was
to
say
that
such
a
remembrance
might
not
sway
the
balance
of
their
judgment
just
a
trifle
in
his
favor
?
It
was
about
this
time
that
Martin
took
a
great
slump
in
Maria
’
s
estimation
.
He
found
her
in
the
kitchen
one
morning
groaning
with
pain
,
tears
of
weakness
running
down
her
cheeks
,
vainly
endeavoring
to
put
through
a
large
ironing
.
He
promptly
diagnosed
her
affliction
as
La
Grippe
,
dosed
her
with
hot
whiskey
(
the
remnants
in
the
bottles
for
which
Brissenden
was
responsible
)
,
and
ordered
her
to
bed
.
But
Maria
was
refractory
.
The
ironing
had
to
be
done
,
she
protested
,
and
delivered
that
night
,
or
else
there
would
be
no
food
on
the
morrow
for
the
seven
small
and
hungry
Silvas
.
