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- Луиза Мэй Олкотт
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- Стр. 424/451
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For
a
fortnight
,
the
Professor
came
and
went
with
lover
-
like
regularity
.
Then
he
stayed
away
for
three
whole
days
,
and
made
no
sign
,
a
proceeding
which
caused
everybody
to
look
sober
,
and
Jo
to
become
pensive
,
at
first
,
and
then
—
alas
for
romance
—
very
cross
.
"
Disgusted
,
I
dare
say
,
and
gone
home
as
suddenly
as
he
came
.
It
’
s
nothing
to
me
,
of
course
,
but
I
should
think
he
would
have
come
and
bid
us
goodbye
like
a
gentleman
,
"
she
said
to
herself
,
with
a
despairing
look
at
the
gate
,
as
she
put
on
her
things
for
the
customary
walk
one
dull
afternoon
.
"
You
’
d
better
take
the
little
umbrella
,
dear
.
It
looks
like
rain
,
"
said
her
mother
,
observing
that
she
had
on
her
new
bonnet
,
but
not
alluding
to
the
fact
.
"
Yes
,
Marmee
,
do
you
want
anything
in
town
?
I
’
ve
got
to
run
in
and
get
some
paper
,
"
returned
Jo
,
pulling
out
the
bow
under
her
chin
before
the
glass
as
an
excuse
for
not
looking
at
her
mother
.
"
Yes
,
I
want
some
twilled
silesia
,
a
paper
of
number
nine
needles
,
and
two
yards
of
narrow
lavender
ribbon
.
Have
you
got
your
thick
boots
on
,
and
something
warm
under
your
cloak
?
"
"
I
believe
so
,
"
answered
Jo
absently
.
"
If
you
happen
to
meet
Mr
.
Bhaer
,
bring
him
home
to
tea
.
I
quite
long
to
see
the
dear
man
,
"
added
Mrs
.
March
.
Jo
heard
that
,
but
made
no
answer
,
except
to
kiss
her
mother
,
and
walk
rapidly
away
,
thinking
with
a
glow
of
gratitude
,
in
spite
of
her
heartache
,
"
How
good
she
is
to
me
!
What
do
girls
do
who
haven
’
t
any
mothers
to
help
them
through
their
troubles
?
"
The
dry
-
goods
stores
were
not
down
among
the
counting
-
houses
,
banks
,
and
wholesale
warerooms
,
where
gentlemen
most
do
congregate
,
but
Jo
found
herself
in
that
part
of
the
city
before
she
did
a
single
errand
,
loitering
along
as
if
waiting
for
someone
,
examining
engineering
instruments
in
one
window
and
samples
of
wool
in
another
,
with
most
unfeminine
interest
,
tumbling
over
barrels
,
being
half
-
smothered
by
descending
bales
,
and
hustled
unceremoniously
by
busy
men
who
looked
as
if
they
wondered
‘
how
the
deuce
she
got
there
’
.
A
drop
of
rain
on
her
cheek
recalled
her
thoughts
from
baffled
hopes
to
ruined
ribbons
.
For
the
drops
continued
to
fall
,
and
being
a
woman
as
well
as
a
lover
,
she
felt
that
,
though
it
was
too
late
to
save
her
heart
,
she
might
her
bonnet
.
Now
she
remembered
the
little
umbrella
,
which
she
had
forgotten
to
take
in
her
hurry
to
be
off
,
but
regret
was
unavailing
,
and
nothing
could
be
done
but
borrow
one
or
submit
to
a
drenching
.
She
looked
up
at
the
lowering
sky
,
down
at
the
crimson
bow
already
flecked
with
black
,
forward
along
the
muddy
street
,
then
one
long
,
lingering
look
behind
,
at
a
certain
grimy
warehouse
,
with
‘
Hoffmann
,
Swartz
,
&
Co
.
’
over
the
door
,
and
said
to
herself
,
with
a
sternly
reproachful
air
.
.
.
