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- Стр. 92/109
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Miles
,
taking
the
bottle
in
his
hand
,
passed
behind
the
table
.
Charity
followed
him
,
and
they
stood
before
a
mattress
on
the
floor
in
a
corner
of
the
room
.
A
woman
lay
on
it
,
but
she
did
not
look
like
a
dead
woman
;
she
seemed
to
have
fallen
across
her
squalid
bed
in
a
drunken
sleep
,
and
to
have
been
left
lying
where
she
fell
,
in
her
ragged
disordered
clothes
.
One
arm
was
flung
above
her
head
,
one
leg
drawn
up
under
a
torn
skirt
that
left
the
other
bare
to
the
knee
:
a
swollen
glistening
leg
with
a
ragged
stocking
rolled
down
about
the
ankle
.
The
woman
lay
on
her
back
,
her
eyes
staring
up
unblinkingly
at
the
candle
that
trembled
in
Mr
.
Miles
’
s
hand
.
“
She
jus
’
dropped
off
,
”
a
woman
said
,
over
the
shoulder
of
the
others
;
and
the
young
man
added
:
“
I
jus
’
come
in
and
found
her
.
”
An
elderly
man
with
lank
hair
and
a
feeble
grin
pushed
between
them
.
“
It
was
like
this
:
I
says
to
her
on
’
y
the
night
before
:
if
you
don
’
t
take
and
quit
,
I
says
to
her
.
.
.
”
Someone
pulled
him
back
and
sent
him
reeling
against
a
bench
along
the
wall
,
where
he
dropped
down
muttering
his
unheeded
narrative
.
There
was
a
silence
;
then
the
young
woman
who
had
been
lolling
against
the
table
suddenly
parted
the
group
,
and
stood
in
front
of
Charity
.
She
was
healthier
and
robuster
looking
than
the
others
,
and
her
weather
-
beaten
face
had
a
certain
sullen
beauty
.
“
Who
’
s
the
girl
?
Who
brought
her
here
?
”
she
said
,
fixing
her
eyes
mistrustfully
on
the
young
man
who
had
rebuked
her
for
not
having
a
candle
ready
.
Mr
.
Miles
spoke
.
“
I
brought
her
;
she
is
Mary
Hyatt
’
s
daughter
.
”
“
What
?
Her
too
?
”
the
girl
sneered
;
and
the
young
man
turned
on
her
with
an
oath
.
“
Shut
your
mouth
,
damn
you
,
or
get
out
of
here
,
”
he
said
;
then
he
relapsed
into
his
former
apathy
,
and
dropped
down
on
the
bench
,
leaning
his
head
against
the
wall
.
Mr
.
Miles
had
set
the
candle
on
the
floor
and
taken
off
his
heavy
coat
.
He
turned
to
Charity
.
“
Come
and
help
me
,
”
he
said
.
