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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 66/416
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Osterman
found
an
excuse
for
going
to
bed
,
but
Annixter
and
Harran
remained
in
the
latter
’
s
room
,
in
a
haze
of
blue
tobacco
smoke
,
talking
,
talking
.
But
at
length
,
at
the
end
of
all
argument
,
Annixter
got
up
,
remarking
:
“
Well
,
I
’
m
going
to
turn
in
.
It
’
s
nearly
two
o
’
clock
.
”
He
went
to
his
room
,
closing
the
door
,
and
Harran
,
opening
his
window
to
clear
out
the
tobacco
smoke
,
looked
out
for
a
moment
across
the
country
toward
the
south
.
The
darkness
was
profound
,
impenetrable
;
the
rain
fell
with
an
uninterrupted
roar
.
Near
at
hand
one
could
hear
the
sound
of
dripping
eaves
and
foliage
and
the
eager
,
sucking
sound
of
the
drinking
earth
,
and
abruptly
while
Harran
stood
looking
out
,
one
hand
upon
the
upraised
sash
,
a
great
puff
of
the
outside
air
invaded
the
room
,
odourous
with
the
reek
of
the
soaking
earth
,
redolent
with
fertility
,
pungent
,
heavy
,
tepid
.
He
closed
the
window
again
and
sat
for
a
few
moments
on
the
edge
of
the
bed
,
one
shoe
in
his
hand
,
thoughtful
and
absorbed
,
wondering
if
his
father
would
involve
himself
in
this
new
scheme
,
wondering
if
,
after
all
,
he
wanted
him
to
.
But
suddenly
he
was
aware
of
a
commotion
,
issuing
from
the
direction
of
Annixter
’
s
room
,
and
the
voice
of
Annixter
himself
upraised
in
expostulation
and
exasperation
.
The
door
of
the
room
to
which
Annixter
had
been
assigned
opened
with
a
violent
wrench
and
an
angry
voice
exclaimed
to
anybody
who
would
listen
:
“
Oh
,
yes
,
funny
,
isn
’
t
it
?
In
a
way
,
it
’
s
funny
,
and
then
,
again
,
in
a
way
it
isn
’
t
.
”
The
door
banged
to
so
that
all
the
windows
of
the
house
rattled
in
their
frames
.
Harran
hurried
out
into
the
dining
-
room
and
there
met
Presley
and
his
father
,
who
had
been
aroused
as
well
by
Annixter
’
s
clamour
.
Osterman
was
there
,
too
,
his
bald
head
gleaming
like
a
bulb
of
ivory
in
the
light
of
the
lamp
that
Magnus
carried
.
“
What
’
s
all
up
?
”
demanded
Osterman
.
“
Whatever
in
the
world
is
the
matter
with
Buck
?
”
Confused
and
terrible
sounds
came
from
behind
the
door
of
Annixter
’
s
room
.
A
prolonged
monologue
of
grievance
,
broken
by
explosions
of
wrath
and
the
vague
noise
of
some
one
in
a
furious
hurry
.
All
at
once
and
before
Harran
had
a
chance
to
knock
on
the
door
,
Annixter
flung
it
open
.
His
face
was
blazing
with
anger
,
his
outthrust
lip
more
prominent
than
ever
,
his
wiry
,
yellow
hair
in
disarray
,
the
tuft
on
the
crown
sticking
straight
into
the
air
like
the
upraised
hackles
of
an
angry
hound
.
Evidently
he
had
been
dressing
himself
with
the
most
headlong
rapidity
;
he
had
not
yet
put
on
his
coat
and
vest
,
but
carried
them
over
his
arm
,
while
with
his
disengaged
hand
he
kept
hitching
his
suspenders
over
his
shoulders
with
a
persistent
and
hypnotic
gesture
.
