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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 211/416
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How
was
he
to
get
out
of
this
?
What
was
the
clew
that
would
set
everything
straight
again
?
That
he
would
give
Hilma
up
,
never
once
entered
his
head
.
Have
her
he
would
.
She
had
given
herself
to
him
.
Everything
should
have
been
easy
after
that
,
and
instead
,
here
he
was
alone
in
the
night
,
wrestling
with
himself
,
in
deeper
trouble
than
ever
,
and
Hilma
farther
than
ever
away
from
him
.
It
was
true
,
he
might
have
Hilma
,
even
now
,
if
he
was
willing
to
marry
her
.
But
marriage
,
to
his
mind
,
had
been
always
a
vague
,
most
remote
possibility
,
almost
as
vague
and
as
remote
as
his
death
,
—
a
thing
that
happened
to
some
men
,
but
that
would
surely
never
occur
to
him
,
or
,
if
it
did
,
it
would
be
after
long
years
had
passed
,
when
he
was
older
,
more
settled
,
more
mature
—
an
event
that
belonged
to
the
period
of
his
middle
life
,
distant
as
yet
.
He
had
never
faced
the
question
of
his
marriage
.
He
had
kept
it
at
an
immense
distance
from
him
.
It
had
never
been
a
part
of
his
order
of
things
.
He
was
not
a
marrying
man
.
But
Hilma
was
an
ever
-
present
reality
,
as
near
to
him
as
his
right
hand
.
Marriage
was
a
formless
,
far
distant
abstraction
.
Hilma
a
tangible
,
imminent
fact
.
Before
he
could
think
of
the
two
as
one
;
before
he
could
consider
the
idea
of
marriage
,
side
by
side
with
the
idea
of
Hilma
,
measureless
distances
had
to
be
traversed
,
things
as
disassociated
in
his
mind
as
fire
and
water
,
had
to
be
fused
together
;
and
between
the
two
he
was
torn
as
if
upon
a
rack
.
Slowly
,
by
imperceptible
degrees
,
the
imagination
,
unused
,
unwilling
machine
,
began
to
work
.
The
brain
’
s
activity
lapsed
proportionately
.
He
began
to
think
less
,
and
feel
more
.
In
that
rugged
composition
,
confused
,
dark
,
harsh
,
a
furrow
had
been
driven
deep
,
a
little
seed
planted
,
a
little
seed
at
first
weak
,
forgotten
,
lost
in
the
lower
dark
places
of
his
character
.
But
as
the
intellect
moved
slower
,
its
functions
growing
numb
,
the
idea
of
self
dwindled
.
Annixter
no
longer
considered
himself
;
no
longer
considered
the
notion
of
marriage
from
the
point
of
view
of
his
own
comfort
,
his
own
wishes
,
his
own
advantage
.
He
realised
that
in
his
newfound
desire
to
make
her
happy
,
he
was
sincere
.
There
was
something
in
that
idea
,
after
all
.
To
make
some
one
happy
—
how
about
that
now
?
It
was
worth
thinking
of
.
Far
away
,
low
down
in
the
east
,
a
dim
belt
,
a
grey
light
began
to
whiten
over
the
horizon
.
The
tower
of
the
Mission
stood
black
against
it
.
The
dawn
was
coming
.
The
baffling
obscurity
of
the
night
was
passing
.
Hidden
things
were
coming
into
view
.
Annixter
,
his
eyes
half
-
closed
,
his
chin
upon
his
fist
,
allowed
his
imagination
full
play
.
How
would
it
be
if
he
should
take
Hilma
into
his
life
,
this
beautiful
young
girl
,
pure
as
he
now
knew
her
to
be
;
innocent
,
noble
with
the
inborn
nobility
of
dawning
womanhood
?
An
overwhelming
sense
of
his
own
unworthiness
suddenly
bore
down
upon
him
with
crushing
force
,
as
he
thought
of
this
.
He
had
gone
about
the
whole
affair
wrongly
.
He
had
been
mistaken
from
the
very
first
.
She
was
infinitely
above
him
.
He
did
not
want
—
he
should
not
desire
to
be
the
master
.
It
was
she
,
his
servant
,
poor
,
simple
,
lowly
even
,
who
should
condescend
to
him
.
