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- Джон Стейнбек
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- Гроздья гнева
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- Стр. 147/563
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"
Look
there
.
"
She
pointed
at
the
coins
beside
the
cups
—
two
half
-
dollars
.
Al
walked
near
and
looked
,
and
then
he
went
back
to
work
.
"
Truck
drivers
,
"
Mae
said
reverently
,
"
an
’
after
them
shitheels
.
"
Flies
struck
the
screen
with
little
bumps
and
droned
away
.
The
compressor
chugged
for
a
time
and
then
stopped
.
On
66
the
traffic
whizzed
by
,
trucks
and
fine
streamlined
cars
and
jalopies
;
and
they
went
by
with
a
vicious
whiz
.
Mae
took
down
the
plates
and
scraped
the
pie
crusts
into
a
bucket
.
She
found
her
damp
cloth
and
wiped
the
counter
with
circular
sweeps
.
And
her
eyes
were
on
the
highway
,
where
life
whizzed
by
.
Al
wiped
his
hands
on
his
apron
.
He
looked
at
a
paper
pinned
to
the
wall
over
the
griddle
.
Three
lines
of
marks
in
columns
on
the
paper
.
Al
counted
the
longest
line
.
He
walked
along
the
counter
to
the
cash
register
,
rang
"
No
Sale
,
"
and
took
out
a
handful
of
nickels
.
"
What
ya
doin
’
?
"
Mae
asked
.
"
Number
three
’
s
ready
to
pay
off
,
"
said
Al
.
He
went
on
the
third
slot
machine
and
played
his
nickels
in
,
and
on
the
fifth
spin
of
the
wheels
the
three
bars
came
up
and
the
jackpot
dumped
out
into
the
cup
.
Al
gathered
up
the
big
handful
of
coins
and
went
back
of
the
counter
.
He
dropped
them
in
the
drawer
and
slammed
the
cash
register
.
Then
he
went
back
to
his
place
and
crossed
out
the
line
of
dots
.
"
Number
three
gets
more
play
’
n
the
others
,
"
he
said
.
"
Maybe
I
ought
to
shift
’
em
around
.
"
He
lifted
a
lid
and
stirred
the
slowly
simmering
stew
.
"
I
wonder
what
they
’
ll
do
in
California
?
"
said
Mae
.
"
Who
?
"
"
Them
folks
that
was
just
in
.
"
