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- Джон Стейнбек
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Dakin
was
a
thin
-
faced
man
with
veiled
,
watchful
eyes
and
an
immobile
mouth
.
His
voice
was
a
sharp
monotone
.
"
You
old
son
-
of
-
a
-
bitch
,
"
he
said
.
"
Come
on
in
.
I
ain
’
t
seen
you
since
we
left
Radcliffe
.
"
He
stepped
back
and
let
them
in
.
London
said
,
"
This
here
’
s
Doc
and
his
friend
,
Dakin
.
Doc
helped
Lisa
the
other
night
.
Maybe
you
heard
about
it
.
"
Dakin
put
out
a
long
,
pale
hand
to
Mac
.
"
Sure
I
heard
.
Couple
of
guys
working
right
here
was
there
.
You
’
d
think
Lisa
’
d
dropped
an
elephant
the
way
they
don
’
t
talk
about
nothing
else
.
This
here
’
s
the
missus
,
Doc
.
You
might
take
a
look
at
them
two
kids
,
too
,
they
’
re
strong
.
"
His
wife
stood
up
,
a
fine
,
big
-
bosomed
woman
with
a
full
face
,
with
little
red
spots
of
rouge
on
her
cheeks
,
and
with
a
gold
upper
bridge
that
flashed
in
the
lamplight
.
"
Glad
to
meet
you
boys
,
"
she
said
in
a
husky
voice
.
"
You
boys
like
a
spot
of
coffee
or
a
little
shot
?
"
Dakin
’
s
eyes
warmed
a
trifle
out
of
pride
in
her
.
"
Well
,
it
was
pretty
cold
coming
over
,
"
Mac
said
tentatively
.
The
gold
bridge
flashed
.
"
Just
what
I
thought
.
You
’
ll
do
with
a
snort
.
"
She
set
out
a
bottle
of
whisky
and
a
jigger
.
"
Pour
your
own
,
boys
.
You
can
’
t
pour
it
no
higher
’
n
the
top
.
"
The
bottle
and
the
glass
went
around
.
Mrs
.
Dakin
tossed
hers
off
last
.
She
corked
the
bottle
and
stood
it
in
a
small
cupboard
.
Three
folding
canvas
chairs
were
in
the
room
,
and
two
canvas
cots
for
the
children
.
A
big
patent
camp
bed
stood
against
the
wall
.
Mac
said
,
"
You
do
yourself
pretty
nice
,
Mr
.
Dakin
.
"
