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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 44/416
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Her
voice
was
low
in
pitch
and
of
a
velvety
huskiness
,
seeming
to
come
more
from
her
chest
than
from
her
throat
.
“
Well
,
I
’
m
some
better
,
”
growled
Annixter
.
Then
suddenly
he
demanded
,
“
Where
’
s
that
dog
?
”
A
decrepit
Irish
setter
sometimes
made
his
appearance
in
and
about
the
ranch
house
,
sleeping
under
the
bed
and
eating
when
anyone
about
the
place
thought
to
give
him
a
plate
of
bread
.
Annixter
had
no
particular
interest
in
the
dog
.
For
weeks
at
a
time
he
ignored
its
existence
.
It
was
not
his
dog
.
But
to
-
day
it
seemed
as
if
he
could
not
let
the
subject
rest
.
For
no
reason
that
he
could
explain
even
to
himself
,
he
recurred
to
it
continually
.
He
questioned
Hilma
minutely
all
about
the
dog
.
Who
owned
him
?
How
old
did
she
think
he
was
?
Did
she
imagine
the
dog
was
sick
?
Where
had
he
got
to
?
Maybe
he
had
crawled
off
to
die
somewhere
.
He
recurred
to
the
subject
all
through
the
meal
;
apparently
,
he
could
talk
of
nothing
else
,
and
as
she
finally
went
away
after
clearing
off
the
table
,
he
went
onto
the
porch
and
called
after
her
:
“
Say
,
Miss
Hilma
.
”
“
Yes
,
sir
.
”
“
If
that
dog
turns
up
again
you
let
me
know
.
”
“
Very
well
,
sir
.
”
Annixter
returned
to
the
dining
-
room
and
sat
down
in
the
chair
he
had
just
vacated
.
“
To
hell
with
the
dog
!
”
he
muttered
,
enraged
,
he
could
not
tell
why
.
When
at
length
he
allowed
his
attention
to
wander
from
Hilma
Tree
,
he
found
that
he
had
been
staring
fixedly
at
a
thermometer
upon
the
wall
opposite
,
and
this
made
him
think
that
it
had
long
been
his
intention
to
buy
a
fine
barometer
,
an
instrument
that
could
be
accurately
depended
on
.
