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第8章 我要掌控你的生死

　　At breakfast he found himself without an appetite. The meat towhich he helped himself remained on his plate untouched. Hiscoffee grew cold, while he scanned the paper indifferently. Hereand there he read a little thing, but remembered nothing.Jessica had not yet come down. His wife sat at one end of thetable revolving thoughts of her own in silence. A new servanthad been recently installed and had forgot the napkins. On thisaccount the silence was irritably broken by a reproof.

　　"You must be thinking," he said.

　　"I should think we could get a smaller place," he suggested. "Wedon't need four rooms."

　　Hurstwood approached and held out his own toward the fire. Hewas sick of the bareness and privation of all things connectedwith his venture, but was steeling himself to hold out. Hefancied he could for a while.

　　She shook her head, though for all her distress and his trickeryshe was beginning to notice what she had always felt--histhoughtfulness.

　　"Well, and I mean it too, but it takes money to live as I wantto. Now, when I get this increase, I can come pretty near fixingthings all right, and I'll do it. Now, don't you worry, girlie."

　　One of the watchers, this time a middle-aged man, handed him afive-cent piece.

　　"I'll be glad to go," said Carrie. "How much will we have to payfor seats?"

　　"They're not trying to run any cars except with police. Theydon't want anybody just now--not before next week."