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- Теодор Драйзер
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- Сестра Керри
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- Стр. 522/524
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A
carriage
went
jingling
by
with
some
reclining
figure
in
it
.
One
of
the
men
nearest
the
door
saw
it
.
“
Look
at
the
bloke
ridin
’
.
”
“
He
ain
’
t
so
cold
.
”
“
Eh
,
eh
,
eh
!
”
yelled
another
,
the
carriage
having
long
since
passed
out
of
hearing
.
Little
by
little
the
night
crept
on
.
Along
the
walk
a
crowd
turned
out
on
its
way
home
.
Men
and
shop
-
girls
went
by
with
quick
steps
.
The
cross
-
town
cars
began
to
be
crowded
.
The
gas
lamps
were
blazing
,
and
every
window
bloomed
ruddy
with
a
steady
flame
.
Still
the
crowd
hung
about
the
door
,
unwavering
.
“
Ain
’
t
they
ever
goin
’
to
open
up
?
”
queried
a
hoarse
voice
,
suggestively
.
This
seemed
to
renew
the
general
interest
in
the
closed
door
,
and
many
gazed
in
that
direction
.
They
looked
at
it
as
dumb
brutes
look
,
as
dogs
paw
and
whine
and
study
the
knob
.
They
shifted
and
blinked
and
muttered
,
now
a
curse
,
now
a
comment
.
Still
they
waited
and
still
the
snow
whirled
and
cut
them
with
biting
flakes
.
On
the
old
hats
and
peaked
shoulders
it
was
piling
.
It
gathered
in
little
heaps
and
curves
and
no
one
brushed
it
off
.
In
the
centre
of
the
crowd
the
warmth
and
steam
melted
it
,
and
water
trickled
off
hat
rims
and
down
noses
,
which
the
owners
could
not
reach
to
scratch
.
On
the
outer
rim
the
piles
remained
unmelted
.
Hurstwood
,
who
could
not
get
in
the
centre
,
stood
with
head
lowered
to
the
weather
and
bent
his
form
.
A
light
appeared
through
the
transom
overhead
.
It
sent
a
thrill
of
possibility
through
the
watchers
.
There
was
a
murmur
of
recognition
.
At
last
the
bars
grated
inside
and
the
crowd
pricked
up
its
ears
.
Footsteps
shuffled
within
and
it
murmured
again
.
Some
one
called
:
“
Slow
up
there
,
now
,
”
and
then
the
door
opened
.
It
was
push
and
jam
for
a
minute
,
with
grim
,
beast
silence
to
prove
its
quality
,
and
then
it
melted
inward
,
like
logs
floating
,
and
disappeared
.
There
were
wet
hats
and
wet
shoulders
,
a
cold
,
shrunken
,
disgruntled
mass
,
pouring
in
between
bleak
walls
.
It
was
just
six
o
’
clock
and
there
was
supper
in
every
hurrying
pedestrian
’
s
face
.
And
yet
no
supper
was
provided
here
—
nothing
but
beds
.
Hurstwood
laid
down
his
fifteen
cents
and
crept
off
with
weary
steps
to
his
allotted
room
.
It
was
a
dingy
affair
—
wooden
,
dusty
,
hard
.
A
small
gas
-
jet
furnished
sufficient
light
for
so
rueful
a
corner
.
