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- Эдит Уортон
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- Стр. 102/109
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Mr
.
Royall
leaned
against
the
wall
.
He
was
paler
than
usual
,
but
his
face
was
composed
and
kindly
and
her
agitation
did
not
appear
to
perturb
him
.
“
What
’
s
all
this
about
wanting
?
”
he
said
as
she
paused
.
“
Do
you
know
what
you
really
want
?
I
’
ll
tell
you
.
You
want
to
be
took
home
and
took
care
of
.
And
I
guess
that
’
s
all
there
is
to
say
.
”
“
No
.
.
.
it
’
s
not
all
.
.
.
.
”
“
Ain
’
t
it
?
”
He
looked
at
his
watch
.
“
Well
,
I
’
ll
tell
you
another
thing
.
All
I
want
is
to
know
if
you
’
ll
marry
me
.
If
there
was
anything
else
,
I
’
d
tell
you
so
;
but
there
ain
’
t
.
Come
to
my
age
,
a
man
knows
the
things
that
matter
and
the
things
that
don
’
t
;
that
’
s
about
the
only
good
turn
life
does
us
”
His
tone
was
so
strong
and
resolute
that
it
was
like
a
supporting
arm
about
her
.
She
felt
her
resistance
melting
,
her
strength
slipping
away
from
her
as
he
spoke
.
“
Don
’
t
cry
,
Charity
,
”
he
exclaimed
in
a
shaken
voice
.
She
looked
up
,
startled
at
his
emotion
,
and
their
eyes
met
.
“
See
here
,
”
he
said
gently
,
“
old
Dan
’
s
come
a
long
distance
,
and
we
’
ve
got
to
let
him
take
it
easy
the
rest
of
the
way
.
.
.
.
”
He
picked
up
the
cloak
that
had
slipped
to
her
chair
and
laid
it
about
her
shoulders
.
She
followed
him
out
of
the
house
,
and
then
walked
across
the
yard
to
the
shed
,
where
the
horse
was
tied
.
Mr
.
Royall
unblanketed
him
and
led
him
out
into
the
road
.
Charity
got
into
the
buggy
and
he
drew
the
cover
about
her
and
shook
out
the
reins
with
a
cluck
.
When
they
reached
the
end
of
the
village
he
turned
the
horse
’
s
head
toward
Creston
.
They
began
to
jog
down
the
winding
road
to
the
valley
at
old
Dan
’
s
languid
pace
.
Charity
felt
herself
sinking
into
deeper
depths
of
weariness
,
and
as
they
descended
through
the
bare
woods
there
were
moments
when
she
lost
the
exact
sense
of
things
,
and
seemed
to
be
sitting
beside
her
lover
with
the
leafy
arch
of
summer
bending
over
them
.
But
this
illusion
was
faint
and
transitory
.
For
the
most
part
she
had
only
a
confused
sensation
of
slipping
down
a
smooth
irresistible
current
;
and
she
abandoned
herself
to
the
feeling
as
a
refuge
from
the
torment
of
thought
.
